After the "alleyway attack" in the last episode, I have been jumpy and nervous in the dark. However, you eased away my fears and just when I was beginning to let down my guard ...

I walked lightly and easily across the hot, sticky tarmac, my heels making a gentle clicking as I progressed. I was acutely aware of the darkness beginning to close in and shivered involuntarily as the fear sent icy fingers up my spine. I quickened my pace and as I swung around a corner, I almost expected to be confronted. I breathed a sigh of relief as I turned the corner and encountered nothing.

I reprimanded myself for being so paranoid yet I knew that the danger wasn't over yet. Countless corners had still to be rounded and alleyways, so dimly lit, passed through. However, the walk was known. Many times we had traversed it's worn pathways, adding familarity to my surroundings.

I smiled at this corner or that alleyway remembering encounters with friends but mainly with you. A gentle warmth crept back through me and I could not resist visiting some old haunts, despite the danger.

I had been wandering aimlessly around a particularly dark alleyway between two rows of trees in deep thought when I tripped on a large protruding root falling suddenly onto a soft bed of moist earth - almost familiar. I looked behind and crawled further in to examine the area under the tree.

Suddenly I stopped realising the stupidity of crawling into a dark deep abyss, although granted the alleyway is better lit than it was. I didn't have time to ponder long as I spied a movement over to one side, and pushing my inhibitions aside, I ventured further.

There he was, just sitting there, the light from the alleyway filtering gently across his face. "You remembered, then?" he asked softly. "Only vaguely" I replied gasping as he pulled me close and slowly, expertly ran his tongue along the line of my neck. He smiled reassuringly.

"Well, let's Christen it then shall we?" he asked. So we did and the delighted sounds of our gentle passion still ring in my ears as I think of that now familiar haunt and the ecstasy of exhaustion that followed.

© Kyre July 1995.