We’re Not Naked, We’re Skyclad!

I Was...a Journalist...though My Typical Beat Was Freelancing Articles On Canadian Politics, Which Never Included Any Mention Of Demonic Phenomena, Though It Might Explain The Rise Of The Neoconservatives.

Here I Had A Wonderful Man Who Cared For Me And I Was Screwing Around With A Self-absorbed, Conniving Monster Who'd Betrayed Me In The Worst Possible Way.

I Lifted Onto My Toes, Put My Hands Aroung His Neck, And Pulled Him Down. When Our Lips Met, That First Jolt... It Was Everything I Hadn't Felt With Simon, Everything I Wanted To Feel. His Hands Went Around My Waist, Pulling Me Closer--

You Know Children, Always Playing With The Forces Of Darkness.

Derek Caught My Arm Again As I Started To Move--at This Rate, It Was Going To Be As Sore As My Injured One. "dog," He Said, Jerking His Chin Toward The Fenced Yard. "it Was Inside Earlier." Expecting To See A Doberman Slavering At The Fence, I Followed His Gaze To A Little Puff Of White Fur, The Kind Of Dog Women Stick In Their Purses. It Wasn't Even Barking, Just Staring At Us, Dancing In Place. "oh, My God! It's A Killer Pomeranian." I Glanced Up At Derek. "it's A Tough Call, But I Think You Can Take Him.