A Good Little Girl Like You (A Sample)

sample some short subjects. She smirked and leaned

forward to sift through the pile. "Seen it. . . Seen it. . . Seen

it. . ." She stopped and picked up a different-shaped box.

"Wow! You don't see videotapes much anymore. And I've

never heard of this one. Patchwork Girl of Oz?"

"I told you about that. An old silent movie. Not the

greatest. They haven't issued it digitally yet, it's so obscure."

"Can we see it?"

O.E. narrowed his eyes. "I've got to warn you, it's pretty

boring. If you watch this movie, you better prepare yourself

for a less than superlative experience."

Rebecca's curiosity overruled her arousal. "Play the

movie! Maybe you'll enjoy it more this time."

He flipped his hands out at his sides and shook his

head, as if to say, you'll be sorry. The movie started and after

a few minutes, they both began to shoot each other wide-eyed

looks, giggling nervously. It was a bizarre story about a

woman living in a run-down house, not very Oz-like at all.

"Too bad, O.E. This is definitely not a superlative movie."

"I know. It's sad. But here's a little magic trick that

would make it better." He picked up the remote. "Now you

see it. . ." He waved the remote grandly, and the screen went

blank. "Now you don't."

Oh yes, hocus pocus. Rebecca took a long breath as he

approached her slowly with huge, excited eyes. After days of

longing for each other, they were finally able to act. She

reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck.

They fell into each other and resumed the kiss that was

so rudely interrupted by dinner. It was wonderful, and she

soon lost herself in his mouth. After a minute, he stopped,

grabbed her, and laid her down on the sofa. They were side

by side, facing each other and kissing some more. Deeply.

Passionately. Tongues entwined and bodies pressed

together, a mystical new world of never-before-seen

wonders.

Rebecca's body tingled in his embrace, hard yet

yielding, burning yet cool. He wrapped around her

perfectly, and she gave herself up to his loving control.

O.E. played with her hair. His hand traced out the curve

of her head, sweeping red locks in every direction. He

caressed her neck, her cheek, and her ear. Rebecca kept one

arm around his back while the other wandered up and

down his body, exploring muscles, flexed and firm. So

much sexuality in one body seemed almost unfair.

His hand meandered around her waist, roamed over her

back, and surveyed her contours. She thrilled with

anticipation from his touch, his warmth.

He gave her a crushing embrace, then let his hand run