“His memory of the night before was foggy, but he knew he hadn't been drinking. He'd taken a beating but was sure he gave better than he got. It was the dreams that bothered him. They were not the nightmares that tormented him when he first got out of the army. He hadn't dreamed of the war in years; hard work and a purpose in life had managed to exorcise those demons. These dreams were about Sharon, and they remained with him in daylight, erotic wisps and snatches that tantalized with their ...very brevity. Images assaulted his consciousness as he rose and went to the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face. He remembered soft thighs under his hand, yielding flesh that was as smooth as milk. At least the pictures seemed like a memory but he knew they couldn't be. He felt cheated and deprived. He glanced at himself in the mirror over the sink and cringed; what woman would want to get into bed with this? He had a terminal case of five o'clock shadow, his blue- black beard casting a sinister shade on his jaws and chin.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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