CHAPTER THREE
Susan awakened less certain about herself than she had been when she had fallen asleep. The thought of what she had done with Max the night before seemed no longer quite as disgusting.
Her fingers went tentatively to her breast—to the breast that was so cruelly gripped the night before, and the memory of which reawakened the feeling.
She stretched full length, still tired from the almost sleepless night. She felt the cool clinging sheets upon her body, and she momentarily smoothed the bedclothes over herself. Her hands smoothed over her flanks. By degrees those hands came back to her breasts, the huge spilling mounds that lay heavy and dormant upon her chest now. She reviewed the evening spent with Max, and surprised now, discovered that her breathing had quickened. Her n*
