There I go again, I thought, thinking about sex."Mom, I met a few girls." Did you have sex with them?" My hand flew to my mouth, clamped over it. Mik... stared at me wide-eyed. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked that. Please forgive me." Um, okay."I felt an attraction toward Mike that was overwhelming. He was so mature. He forgave my foolishness. He was the strong one. I leaned forward and wrapped my arms around him, hugging his face to my chest. His rippling muscles were hard, so unlike his. Not the common Ingmar variety, so no point in her playing chess with death, but the rather rare Ingrid version which is sometimes referred to as The Casablanca Complex. All she can see is buttoned up perfection, sexuality oozing from every pour as her heroine tries desperately to navigate the troubled waters of her splintered heart. Rick or Victor? Love or fidelity? It matters not because all your writer sees is a troubled soul battered by irreconcilable choices. Which as we all know is. More

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