———————– December 23 It rained. It’s never happened before. I don’t really know what to make of it. The sky just wept for hours. ... sat on the front porch of the beach house, under the tin roof, and listened to it beat down. Eventually I got up to pour a glass of red wine, and to light some candles. By late afternoon it looked like a little shrine around me–candles flickering, a half-finished bottle of wine on the table, and me–staring straight ahead into the gloom, watching the lightning flash. As she lies there, falling deeper and deeper into his touch, as his hands explore her body, she wonders if he will be bound by these rules. And as that thought occurs to her. She wonders if she will. Can these rules stand in this room of skin and hands and touch? Can this flesh and these hands and this touch and these sensations be bound by rules. Sensation is a powerful force. Her thoughts travel and she wonders what all of those possibilities might mean. They fall into traditional roles. He. More

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