I then submerged the inner tube in the bowl, and concentrated really hard on looking for the bubbles. Jason was squatting down opposite me, and I assu...ed he was similarly engaged! It slowly dawned on me that I was still wearing my knee length dressing gown. No knickers, no bra – nothing but the dressing gown. I was squatting down with my knees wide apart, bum nearly touching the ground. The belt was loose and the dressing gown was starting to come open near the top. And young Jason was. Such was his state as he eased into the bed next to her, tentatively reaching out to caress her skin in the moonlight. A small sigh escaped her lips, and he found himself wondering where she was in her world of dreams. He pressed his lips to her neck, tasting the salty flavor of her skin. It was then that she moved, that her eyelids fluttered, and his heart raced. 3:45. The numbers on the digital clock by the bed cast a green glow over the room as her eyes fluttered, and she was pulled from her. My gaze drifts briefly to each one before I slip back into my own thoughts. I dream of her. The limpid eyes, tender and full of love, the long lustrous locks as black as the night and softer than silk. The soft tinkling laughter that is music to my ears and sets my mind aflame with unbridled desire. I dream . . . I dream of her. The moon looks down in sympathy for the love I have and the love I do not possess. I lie down and close my eyes. Sleep comes almost immediately. The great Taurus snorts. The friend who had handed the sculpture over to Cassie, a wild-hearted archaeologist named Clara Roft, had been missing for several weeks. She had been working with a group of archaeologists who had stumbled upon the tomb of a medieval Persian noble, a man who just happened to bear the name Hal’hadin (English translation: Alladin). Then one morning the rest of her colleagues awoke to discover that Clara was gone. Since then, no one, not even her parents had heard from her. Tomorrow marked the.
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