She returned with a bowl of water which she placed by the fire and knelt on the floor at Catherine’s feet. “Fuck-em!” She swore, “Village full of bumpkins and farm hands; they need to move with the times. Indian sex She paused, waiting for Catherine’s approval, which duly came, lips moving against lips, arms enfolding her in unbreakable desire. “In memory of Jennifer Spooner, 1975 – 2001.”
“They put the fence up after the accident.” Jenny whispered. The sky to the west was shifting from orange to deep crimson as the sun approached the horizon, but the residual glow was enough for Catherine to find her way. For a long moment Catherine lay, entangled in Jenny’s legs, the comforting fire gently boiling the perspiration on her back. The sun was already sinking and the midges feasted on anyone foolish enough to walk by the river at dusk.
