Date: Thu, 31 Dec 1998 23:47:50 EST
From: Jasmine <SftHrt21@aol.com>
Subject: Sammy's Revelation

			    Sammy's Revelation

"Fuck me." Whitney whispers softly into Sammy's ear.
"What did you say?!" an astounded Sammy sputters.
"You heard me. I said, fuck me." 
"You've got to be kidding!" she exclaims, moving toward the opposite side of
the room. 
"Why would you think I'm kidding? You're a very attractive woman, you know.
Look, I know I'm coming on a bit strong, but--" Whitney's eyes grow wide in
horror as she realizes what it is she's doing. Sammy, I am so sorry. I--I--"
Completely shocked and embarrassed by her behavior she races from the room,
and runs up the stairs to her room. 
Without so much as a second thought Sammy begins following her. She wasn't
thinking the usual "Could it be possible?" You know, the one every woman
thinks when she finds out that the woman she's been wanting so long for is
finally showing feelings of the same. No, Sammy was thinking more along the
lines of "Well, its about time." Whitney's feelings for her have been as far
from secret as you can get. Her covert looks were out right stares. Her
accidental touches couldn't have been more thought out or obvious. Sammy
smiles, she should have said something sooner, instead of having the poor girl
suffer the way she obviously is. Her smile fades when she thinks of Whitney
not forgiving her for not telling her how she feels sooner. She quickens her
steps at the thought, not wanting to prolong things any longer than she had
already so foolishly done. At the top of the stairs she first goes in the
opposite direction of Whitney's room, going instead to the bathroom to look
herself over. After smoothing down a few stray strands of hair, Sammy heads
toward her final destination: Whitney. For several moments she just stands
outside the door, listening. The sounds she hears coming from behind the door
break her heart. She loves this woman, and rather than tell her when she sees
the feeling is mutual, she draws it out, causing the woman she loves obvious
pain. Putting her own feelings of self-loathing aside she knocks on the door.
"Whitney--can I come in?" she asks softly. There's no reply. She tries opening
the door, only to find it locked.
"Whit, come on, open the door. Please?" Her tone now slightly pleading.
"Sammy--I--I'm sorry. I was--I was way out of line." Whitney manages before her
sobbing begins anew. 
Not knowing what else to do Sammy tries using force, "Dammit, Whitney, would
you please just open the door." A moment of silence, then she hears movement.
Sammy hears her take in an unsteady breath, then the lock clicks open. Whitney
then walks away from the door. "Okay," Sammy thinks, "I guess that's as good
as I'm gonna get." With that thought she turns the knob, and slowly opens the
door. Without a sound she walks over to where Whitney is sitting, her back to
the door, and sits beside her. A moment's hesitation passes before Sammy
closes the physical break between the two of them. "Now for the emotional
one," she thinks to herself. Carefully placing her arm around her quietly
sobbing friend she tenderly whispers her name. "Whitney--will you look at me
please?" When no motion is made in the way of a reply Sammy places a hand
under Whitney's chin and turns her face toward her. "Whit," Sammy prods a
little more insistently, "look at me." Slowly Whitney raises her downcast
eyes. Though slightly puffy and red-rimmed from crying, her eyes are still
beautiful. Sammy tells her this. "Whitney," she speaks softly, "you have the
most incredibly green eyes of anyone I've ever seen." Deciding it was now or
never she continues, "I don't know if you've noticed or not, but just one look
from you and my heart skips a beat, my knees go weak, and my breath catches in
my throat. All with just one look." Sammy changes positions so she's now
kneeling in front of Whitney, both hands clasping her soon to be lover's face
intimately. Her thumbs gently wipe away the few remaining tears. Whitney's
eyes are now locked on to hers waiting for what Sammy will say next, while her
heart begins to dangerously swell. "If your eyes have such a debilitating
affect on me, what do you imagine that cherub's voice does to me?" Sammy says
with a small smile. "I'll tell you what. It stops me in my tracks and takes a
hold of my heart again leaving me utterly breathless. It transforms an
otherwise dreary day, into one full of sunshine and beauty; one I don't mind
trudging through because I know that at the end of it I'll get to hear that
voice again, and see those eyes. And have all of those glorious feelings
overwhelm me. I--I could go on all day and all night and on into the next
telling you of what you do to me, but--" It is now Sammy's turn to give in to
the tears. They freely roll down her reddening cheeks where they meet at her
softly rounded chin and fall into Whitney's lap. As Sammy had done earlier,
Whitney now wipes the sad drops away. Turning her downcast eyes back up, all
of the emotions she's just told Sammy about hit her full force. And this time,
unlike so many other times, Whitney notices. She also notices the sheer
adoration, love, compassion, and desire she sees in Sammy's eyes. 
"Oh Sammy, my sweet, sweet Sammy--" Whitney coos to the woman kneeling in front
of her. "Come here--" she says with arms outstretched, welcoming her love.
Sammy rises slowly, and Whitney immediately catches her up in a warm embrace.
"My dear beloved angel--shhh, no more tears, okay?" Whitney comforts while
stroking Sammy's raven black hair. Sammy nods her reply. "Tell me something,
would you?" Sammy nods again.
"How long have you felt this way about me?"
Though she'd known this question was going to be asked some time or other, she
still dreaded it. Sitting up and looking into Whitney's now vibrant eyes, she
answers as best and as truthfully she can, "For a very long time. I guess I
just, no, I know, I wanted you to tell me. I wanted you to make the first
move. I knew how you felt, but I wanted YOU to tell ME. I'm sorry for not
saying something sooner, for making you hurt the way you were hurting. I am,
truly; hurting you was the last of my intentions. Forgive me." Sammy pleads
with violet eyes. "Hey, I said no more tears. Baby there's nothing to forgive,
I understand." Whitney smiles reassuringly. Her perfectly straight teeth
contrast slightly with her now darkened skin. Though normally a soft coffee
with cream, the untimely warm, sunny days have darkened her skin to a deeper
caramel color. Running her hand along a smoothly sculpted jaw line, Sammy
declares, "You're beautiful." Smiling broadly, eyes sparkling, Whitney replies
simply, "Thank you." Nothing else is said for a while, the two just enjoy one
another's closeness. Whitney cradling Sammy in her arms. The silence is broken
when Whitney asks teasingly, "Do you always squirm around this much?" Sammy
answers, "I'm only trying to get comfortable without getting too comfortable.
I don't want to fall asleep on you, or anything. And yes, I do squirm a lot,
but usually under somewhat different circumstances." Her voice becomes husky,
and her eyes glaze over sensuously. Whitney shudders unconsciously at the open
desire she sees reflected in Sammy's eyes. 
"Cold?" Sammy questions coyly. "No," Whitney mumbles. Rising to a kneeling
position she maneuvers herself around so that she is now behind Whitney.
Wrapping her arms around her shoulders she asks, "Are you sure?" Her voice
seems to have lowered several more octaves. "Maybe a little," is the answer
this time. Sammy moves her arms to encompass Whitney's waist, and presses her
body tightly against hers. "Just a little?" she breathes into Whitney's ear.
Another shudder only much more noticeable than the previous one makes its way
through her body. Sammy laughs a low seductive laugh and says enticingly, "I
think my baby needs a little warming up. What do you think baby?" 
"I think baby's freezing," Whitney answers with an exaggerated shiver. Sammy
laughs again, as does Whitney. Slowly, Sammy begins rubbing her hands up and
down Whitney's arms. "You're still feeling a bit cool to me," Sammy whispers
into Whitney's ear, before taking a few seconds to nibble on the appendage.
Whitney gasps then moans deep in the back of her throat. Sammy moves back a
little and tells Whitney to follow her. She helps by tugging gently at her
waist. Once her legs are nearly completely on the bed, Sammy moves around to
straddle her lap. "Now," she begins, eyes locked on to Whitney's, "what was
that little request you made earlier?" Her voice is dripping honey causing
Whitney's breathing to become shallow and unsteady. "Fuck me--" she answers.
"Mmm, my pleasure," Sammy drawls enticingly before her lips make that first
electric contact with Whitney's. It would be almost trite to say they saw
stars, but indeed they did. Lips still touching Sammy murmurs quietly, "My god
woman, you're sweet." Whitney whimpers then presses her lips against hers. 
Just as the second kiss was getting underway the shrill timbre of the
telephone pierces the passionate air in the room. The two lovers jump then
moan at the most unwelcome interruption. Whitney makes no move to rise to
answer the offensive machine, wishing instead that she could toss it out of
the window. "Do you want me to get it?" Sammy asks, a bit winded. Smiling,
Whitney wraps her arms around Sammy in a tight embrace and growls "Don't you
even think about moving." They resume their fondling until the answering
machine picks up, then they stop to see if listening any further were
necessary. "Hello, Whitney, this is Dr. Chablis. The decision for residen--"
the doctor got no more out before Whitney had jumped up off the bed and flown
to the phone. "Hello, Dr. Chablis? Are you still there?" 
"Whitney?" Dr. Chablis questions. 
"Yes, this is Whitney."
"Oh, good, the committee has made its final decision for the new resident. How
soon can you get down to the hospital?" 
"Shower, hair, drive--" she mumbles to herself.
"Excuse me, what did you say?" asks the doctor, sounding a bit confused. 
"Oh, umm, nothing, I'm sorry. I was just thinking aloud. Will forty-five
minutes be too long?" 
"No, no, that's fine."
After getting room numbers and as many specifics as she can, Whitney hangs up
the phone. 
"Ahh, Sammy, baby, this is it!" she shouts excitedly. Bouncing back on to the
bed she pulls Sammy to her for a kiss unlike any other either of them had ever
experienced. The passion flowing so generously around their tightly embracing
bodies is visible, almost tangible. Both will swear for years to come that the
ground had moved during that soul-shaking kiss. "Hey," Sammy grudgingly says
after regaining her breath, "You'd better be getting ready. You don't have
much time." Whitney pouts then jumps up from the bed and heads toward the
bathroom. Stopping just before getting to the bathroom door she turns to Sammy
who's still reclining on her bed, "Come with me, please."
Sammy thinks for a moment, then questions, "Are you sure?" Whitney leaps
across the room back to the bed, and lands next to a startled Sammy. Running
her fingers down along her arm, Whitney replies, "Of course I'm sure. I
wouldn't have asked you if I weren't." She situates herself in such a way that
she's straddling one of Sammy's thighs, looking up at her, and asks again, "So
will you?" 
"Okay, okay. I'll go," Sammy sputters breathlessly. "We're really going to
have to do something about all this newfound energy of yours."
"Oh, you can count on that Ms. Samantha Easton." With that said, she reclaims
her lips for one last breath-taking kiss before making another attempt to head
to the bathroom. 
"Whit, I'm warning you, if you don't get out of this bed right now--you won't
be getting out of it again for a while." The unveiled longing in Sammy's voice
tells Whitney that she isn't kidding. Slowly, almost too slowly, she rises
from the bed. Blowing one last kiss towards her glowing lover, Whitney enters
the bathroom. Sammy remains lying on the bed for several minutes, trying to
collect her thoughts and emotions. More than once she has to stop herself from
getting up and joining Whitney for a long, steamy shower. "Okay Samantha, this
is a really important meeting for Whit. Now get up and get ready," she scolds
herself. She doesn't immediately go to her own room to get dressed, she first
goes to Whitney's closet to pick something out for her. After little
deliberation she decides on a royal blue pants suit, with a pale yellow
camisole to go under it. "Undies," she thinks to herself mischievously. After
opening several drawers she finally opens the right one. "Hmm, you've got
quite a collection, haven't you," she says to an absent Whitney. Quickly she
picks out a yellow silk bra and panty set. Hearing the water stop she exits
the room and runs to hers. On the way she deliberates whether or not she has
enough time for a quick shower. "I'll make time," she says to herself. Hating
the thought of NOT taking one. Throwing open her closet door she grabs the
first thing her hands reach, but just as quickly she rejects it. I can't go in
there with her looking like some kind of castaway. Hurriedly she rifles
through her closet, before deciding on a flowing, floral print skirt and a
peach shift. She then takes a record ten-minute shower, record for her anyway,
including washing her long sable hair. After a bit of mousse and a couple
sprits of hairspray she's finished with her hair. Another personal record is
set as she applies her make-up: just a touch of blush and eye shadow, mascara,
and a bit of faintly colored lipstick. With a sigh she's finally ready to get
dressed. Stepping out of the bath she starts when she sees a fully dressed
Whitney standing in her open doorway. "I'm almost ready, just five more
minutes, okay?" 
"Don't worry, we've got plenty of time."
"Alright. You look stunning, by the way." Sammy offers as she drops her towel
and picks up the panties she'd set out for herself. And she does. Her curly
hair has been neatly pulled back into a French twist, her make-up is flawless,
and her clothes have not a wrinkle on them.
"You look good yourself, good enough to eat even," Whitney comments
suggestively. 
Looking up from her stockings Sammy leers, "All in due time. All in due time."
Minutes later she steps into a pair of heels. "All done," she announces with a
flourish. Her skirt flares, giving Whitney an enjoyable view of her delicate
unmentionables. "Come here," Sammy says motioning with a crooked index finger.
Swiftly, before Whitney has a chance to object, she pulls the clip out of her
hair, letting it tumble down below her shoulders. "Down, leave it down." 
"Do you know how long it took me to get that thing right," she asks in feigned
annoyance, motioning to where the twist had been on the back of her head.
"Sure, all of two minutes." Sammy answers demurely. 
"So it didn't take me that long, but still I liked it."
"Hold on a sec. Put this on." She hands Whitney a light robe then walks into
the bathroom. She comes out with a brush and a can of mousse. "What are you
going to do now?" Whitney asks.
"Nothing, just be still." She squirts a generous amount of mousse into her
hands and applies it as evenly as she can to Whitney's long mass of tight
curls. She brushes it through making the hair lay down smoothly. Then she
instructs her to, "Shake." While Whitney's shaking, she's ruffling. The end
result is a somewhat wild, yet appealing arrangement. 
"We'd better get going," Whitney says as she feels the flames of her desire
threatening to consume her senses.
"Yeah, we'd better." Sammy agrees with feelings of the same coursing through
her burning body.
The two head downstairs to the kitchen. "Hey," Sammy says sounding serious.
"Yeah?" 
"Just in case I haven't told you already; you are positively breath-taking. I
love you."
"Sammy--" Whitney breathes, tears threatening to ruin her mascara.
Sammy presses her cheek against Whitney's, trying not to smear their hurriedly
applied make-up, but wanting to be close to her. "Shh," she soothes, "no
tears, really. It wouldn't look good for you to show up with mascara running
down your cheeks. We keep saying we need to go so what do you say we try this
one last time. Maybe we'll get lucky." Sammy's feeling a bit uncertain, she'd
just told Whitney she loved her, but she hadn't said anything. 
"Will you drive--I don't think I'm up to it at the moment." Whitney confesses
with a strained smile. 
"Sure, come on." They exit the kitchen and enter the garage. Silently they
both seem to agree on the Maxima, rather than the Expedition as their mode of
transportation. Sammy's about to open the driver's side door when Whitney
comes up behind her and turns her around. 
"Whit, you don't have time for any more of this," Sammy admonishes a little
harsher than she'd intended. 
"I know, I know--I just need to tell you something. I love you, too, Sammy.
Like I've never loved anyone before, or ever will again, I love you." A heated
silence grows between the two. In an attempt to diffuse the situation before
they end up on the garage floor, Sammy says hoarsely, "And now I'm supposed to
drive like a sane woman and sit through some boring meeting, before I can get
my hands on you again." 
"Yep," Whitney quips after pecking Sammy on the lips. Before she has time to
react, Whitney moves quickly around the car to the passenger side. "Open up."
Sammy throws a menacing glance in her direction for the jibe; Whitney blows
her a kiss in return.
"So, which way do you think would be quickest?" Sammy asks after they've
gotten situated in the car. 
"Go around by the school," Whitney answers.
"Okay--and we're off," Sammy says dramatically. 
 
Six Months Later...
 
Sammy reaches the phone on the sixth ring, 'It must be Whitney, no one lets it
ring this long,' she thinks to herself. "Hello?"
"Hey, busy?" Whitney asks.
"No, I was just outside. I guess I fell asleep." 
"You alright?" Whitney questions.
"Yep, I'm fine."
"Are you sure?" she presses.
"I'm positive. So, when are you getting in tonight?"
"That's what I'm calling about--listen." Whitney holds the phone away from her
ear. 
"Yeah, so?"
"So what did you hear?"
"A bunch of noise."
"Yeah," Whitney coaxes. 
"Come on Whit, where are you?" Sammy pleads. 
"Ah, you're no fun." Whitney chides playfully. Sammy harrumphs.
"Alright, I just got caught at the light across from Rowan's Diner."
"What?" Sammy exclaims, causing Whitney to jerk the phone away from her ear.
"You're on your way home?"
"Yes, I am, don't sound so pleased about it."
"You know I didn't mean it like that. But why didn't you call me sooner, I
look a mess."
"I'm sure you look fine," Whitney asserts.
"I'm sure I don't," Sammy counters quickly. "I was in the garden before I
dozed off. I have mud and dirt all over me, my hair's all grimy, and the rest
of me is all sticky and sweaty," Sammy pouts as she starts for the bathroom,
hoping to at least be halfway decent when Whitney gets home. "Hey, I'll
forgive you for not calling me sooner and giving me the chance to get cleaned
up if you grab some takeout from the Imperial Palace."
"No way, can't you pick something else. I'm nearly at the house now."
"I know, and no I can't. I want Chinese."
"Ugh," Whitney groans.
"Pretty please, with me on top," Sammy suggests enticingly.
"Okay," Whitney consents, "I'll see you in about twenty minutes. And you'd
better be ready for the runway for all this."
"Umm hmm," Sammy mumbles. "See you in a bit. Love you." 
"I love you, too. Bye."
"Bye."
'Twenty minutes,' Sammy thinks as she strips her way around the bedroom.
Stepping into the bathroom she turns on the water and gets it set to her
liking then goes back into the bedroom to gather her soiled clothes to put in
the hamper. Stepping into the shower she sighs as the hot water cascades over
her body. She lets the water just wash over her for a while before grabbing
the combined bottle of shampoo and conditioner to wash her hair. After working
up a good lather she leans her head back and rinses while running her hands
through her hair to remove any major tangles. While enjoying the luxuriousness
of the hot water, off being rid of the dirt and grim, she almost forgets that
Whitney will be home in less than twenty minutes. She hastily finishes her
shower and towels off. After drying her hair as best she can she runs a comb
through her long dark locks. 'As usual, completely flat and lifeless,' she
thinks grumpily. Despite what everyone tells her, even Whitney, she can't get
passed seeing her hair as being anything other than--blah. 'Oh well,' she
sighs, 'nothing I can do about it now.'
She quickly dresses in the floral sundress she'd set out earlier. Taking a
glance at her dress in the mirror, then her closet she comments to herself,
'Geez, I really need to do some shopping, my wardrobe looks like a friggin'
garden.' She's thinking to herself that her conversations as of late have been
a bit lacking, not that she doesn't enjoy her own company, she's just
beginning to worry about talking to herself so much. 'With the hours Whitney's
keeping lately it's a wonder I'm not in the nuthouse by now,' she thinks
testily. Before the thought has even completed its sabotaging run across her
mind she pushes it away. 'Thoughts like that make nothing but trouble,' she
berates herself. 
Whitney walks in and sees Sammy standing in front of the mirror scowling.
"Hey, what's the matter?" she asks while walking over to Sammy, who's nearly
jumped out her skin. "Oops, sorry, didn't mean to scare you," Whitney
apologizes after seeing Sammy's reaction. She couldn't help the giggle that
threatened to escape from behind her hand. Seeing Sammy glaring at her helped
a lot though and she immediately cleared her throat and started talking. She
repeats her earlier question.
Sammy's glare is replaced with a tight smile, as she tries to push the memory
of her previous thoughts from her mind before saying, "Nothing."
Whitney walks up to her and turns her toward the mirror then asks while
holding Sammy's chin from behind, "Does this look like the face of someone
with nothing the matter?" Their eyes are locked on one another's in the
mirror. With her right hand under Sammy's chin and her left around her waist,
Whitney lifts an eyebrow, silently repeating her question. After breaking
their eye contact for a second Sammy looks back up and says quietly, "I was
just thinking about you," she pauses before continuing, "and how much I miss
you. I'm not complaining," she adds quickly and emphatically, "I know you have
so much more to do at the hospital now. But I do miss you." The last added
after another pause. 
Looking both hurt and angry, with herself, Sammy knows, because she'll now
think she's been 'neglecting' her, she says quietly, "You're right, just this
week alone I've spent nearly every evening at the hospital. I'm not here for
you like I should be. I seldom even ask you how you are anymore. But you're
always here for me, encouraging me, standing by me, taking care of me," she
becomes nearly inaudible as emotion fills her voice. 
"Whoa, slow down, you make me sound like some kind of saint or something. I'm
not. You've just been given a great promotion. It's just going to take some
time for us both to adjust, so don't go acting like you're being so awful."
Whitney releases her hold on Sammy and walks to sit on their bed. "I've got
something, several somethings actually, to ask you," Whitney says, a strange
look on her face. 
"What?" is all Sammy asks, noting the look on her lover's face and not wanting
to push her.
"Well, the first is about work. It isn't going the way I thought it would--I
mean--I'm not happy, and haven't been for a while. I see so few patients and so
much more paperwork than anyone had ever told me I would. I can do the work,
it isn't that I can't, it just isn't what I became a doctor to do: sit around
signing papers," she concludes a bit angrily. With a heavy sigh she goes on,
"Okay, what I want to say is this: there's a position opening up in a research
hospital several towns over. They're offering me the position. I haven't said
one way or another as to whether I will or not, but I think it's just what I'm
looking for. And," she adds with a slight smile, "they have several teaching
jobs that they are trying to fill and have given you the opportunity to take
your pick. I don't have any details yet, but I know that they are within the
area, areas, that you were wanting to teach in," she pauses for a moment
trying to read any response on Sammy's face. "Sammy," she asks nervously,
"what do you think--if we had to make a decision within the next day or so,
what do you think you'd want to do?"
Turning to look at Whitney she says, "If I had to make a decision it would be
I don't know, not much help, I know, but I need more information, more time to
think about it."
"That's okay, you don't have to decide now, and you can get all the
information you want and more if you'll agree to go with me next week to visit
the hospital," Whitney adds hoping to belay any doubts or worries Sammy may
have at the moment.
"Can I let you know tomorrow? I don't think I have anything planned, but I
want to be sure."
"Of course," Whitney says quickly.
"And the other question, questions?" Sammy asks, still facing the mirror, but
looking at Whitney's reflection in it. Whitney not being happy at work hadn't
come as a total surprise but she never would have thought she'd be willing to
give it up, and move on top of it. Did she have a lot to think about?
Standing and walking back over to Sammy, Whitney clears her throat. She
realizes with more than a bit of annoyance that tiny beads of sweat were
popping up on her forehead. With a shaky voice she begins, "I love you, with
everything that I am, you know that, right." Sammy nods her head slightly. 
She reaches behind her and takes hold of Whitney's hands, wrapping her arms
around her and holding them against her stomach. Feeling Whitney moving her
hands she releases them and drops her own arms down by her side. Without
preamble Whitney says, "I want to spend the rest of my life with you, wake up
next to you every morning, and lie down with you every night." Her gaze
intensifies as she holds Sammy's eyes with her own. "Marry me?" she asks. She
opens her hands and reveals a small black velvet box. Within the velvet box is
a small silver ring nestled securely among lush purple velvet. The focal point
of the ring is two overlapping hearts, either containing the birthstone of one
of the women: Golden Topaz for Sammy, and ________ for Whitney. Whitney hadn't
wanted to get anything flamboyant for several reasons; the most important
being that Sammy probably would not like it. She preferred this simple
declaration of their love too, for they are both simple women, who enjoy the
simple things in life. 
Whitney turns Sammy around to face her, looking expectantly into watery violet
eyes. A slow smile begins to brighten Sammy's already beautiful face. Gently
she glides both hands down Whitney's delicate cheekbones. Her thumbs caress
Whitney's lips softly, a touch so soft that if translated into spoken words it
would be the most inaudible* of whispers. Tears begin to steadily stream down
Sammy's cheeks converging at her elegant chin. Finally, after many moments of
just holding her love's face between her hands and gazing deeply into
Whitney's luminous brown eyes Sammy begins, "Whitney, with all my heart, all
my soul, and all that I am or will ever dream of being, I love you. And I can
think of nothing in this world that I want to do more than marry you; so that
I may spend the rest of my life loving you, and being loved by you." Tears are
now drenching both women's faces, and before she completely loses herself in
the wondrous woman before her who has just accepted her proposal, Whitney
places the ring on Sammy's finger. After putting the ring on Sammy's finger,
Whitney embraces her tightly, for the moment just reveling in the sheer
ecstasy of the shared intimacy between her and her beloved. Slowly she starts
for the bed, stopping when she feels its yielding surface. Turning them around
she lowers Sammy to the bed first, then lays next to her. 
Together they embark on a journey unlike any either have experienced before,
but one that they will share time and time again for many happy years to come.
 
Copywright 1998
Jasmine