AZ #1

Machines, medically necessary she was told, nearly hid patient from visitor. Her mind ignored the mechanical noises making the room seem deathly quiet. She'd come to make amends, seek forgiveness, correct past mistakes. But it was too late. Her daughter, beloved only child, was nothing more than a body kept alive by the most repugnant of means.

She had five minutes. To do what? Her words were useless, pleas which - if heard - could not be processed by a brain no longer functioning. What was left to her, but a soft touch of lips on a cool cheek. A final farewell

AZ #2

SLAP! With that one gesture I told Michael everything necessary. My comment about his being their errand boy was a pleasant afterthought, but my hand carried my true feelings. It was...liberating. I have never communicated with him so clearly.

So many times I've been on the receiving end - positioning my body in martial arts training, cajoling me not to escape, playing my body as a cello and bringing forth a symphony of response.

Finally, it was my turn; I had my say. The power of touch - amazing.

“Close your eyes.” His voice was whiskey, fingertips gentle.

She obeyed, his touch shivering her. Something brushed faintly against her cheek, scent wafting under her nose. He closed her fingers around the flower stem, guiding her in darkness. She acquiesced, trusting his hands on her shoulders.

Teeth grazed her neck from jaw line to collarbone. She shuddered, anticipating the exquisite pain, the rush of pleasure, her weakening defenses.

Moments passed, without incident. Disappointment stabbed her.

“Surprise!” Lights flicked on, her eyes flew open. Surrounded by people, Madeline realized she had forgotten her birthday again.

His touch…

She never forgot the hunger…

"Last touch."

It was the sisters' favorite game. In close quarters, she could use mental strategy to get the last touch, but Sarah could touch and run faster.

One day, Sarah impulsively grabbed her doll, tauntingly shouted 'last touch,' and raced off around the second floor. She quickly followed, catching up with Sarah on the landing of the long stairway.

The two sisters warily watched each other, looking for an opening. Suddenly, as her sister triumphantly reached out, Sarah stepped back in a futile attempt to avoid the dreaded last touch.

That day, Madeline won and forever lost the game.

We stand face to face, warriors, on equal ground at last.

My fingers snake over her shoulder, grazing her neck.

"Are you ready?"

Her eyes consent.

Skin against skin, my fist strikes the mouth I kissed in hunger. Bones crunch as I hit her from the opposite direction. She falls against me. The smell of her hair mingles with the scent of blood.

Love and pain, trust and betrayal...

"Enough?"

Hands climb my body. An arm drapes around my neck.

Must... breathe...

"No. Not taking any chances."

A punch to the gut, a caress to her spirit, over and over...

She felt as if every ounce of strength had been drained from her body. The bed she lay upon was uncomfortable; as was the sterile room in which she found herself. These were not her sheets, rough and irritating to her sensitive skin.

Memories drifted through her mind some comforting, others quite horrifying. Her eyes, when she tried to open them, burned and watered. She was vaguely aware of people moving in and out of the room, but she didn’t know who they were.

Ah, his scent. Michael. His hand felt cool as he caressed her burning cheek. Elena smiled.

It felt sensual, sleek and smooth. It was warm originally, but it heated up under the correct touch. With the proper handling it would do exactly what you wished it to do. There were some who didn’t like to touch it, who disdained it and there were some who mishandled it, who abused it and who were careless with it. But, not him, no, not him. He knew the right way to hold it, to slide his fingers down it. He knew, if you treated it nicely, it would never fail you. Walter loaded another bullet in the clip.

It’s been at least an hour since he moved, longer than that since he spoke. I can’t risk a light until I know the area’s clear, so I can’t look. I lost his pulse awhile ago, but I couldn’t move, so I wait here for Section, as he grows cold under my hand

Pitch black. Her eyes were open, but they could not see. Cool water caressed her skin. His moving body sent waves tumbling against her sensitized skin. She reached out to touch something. Anything. Anyone. Ahhh. His skin. He stopped, letting her explore for a few moments. Without her sight, she couldn’t tell what part of his body she touched. There was hair, firm muscle, intriguing contours. He waited motionless, then… a shudder. He moved away. She followed.

“Honey, most recruits panic during the cave dive when we turn out the lights,” Walter murmured, removing her air tanks. “You did great.”