“Or a hot meal. Or a Wendy’s burger. But my dreams are not of roast chicken and baby potatoes, or of pavlovas whose meringues crumble in your mouth. Strangely enough – or not so strangely – they are of a super-hot naked man who just happens to be lying next to me on the soft ground beyond the beach. When we wake the next day, I do not tell Kurt of my dreams, of course. Kurt’s beard is starting to grow. It’s still a shadow on his jaw, but the shadow is getting heavier and darker. He’s sexy as hel...l this way. I wonder how those bristles would feel scraping against my skin. No. No. Absolutely not. We argue a little over how we are to make our S.O.S sign. Finally, we settle for the biggest S.O.S letters we can make on the expanse of beach we have. To make the letters, we haul driftwood and other types of wood. The finished product reads kind of like this: S.O.S K.T R.H From ten miles above, it would resemble a child’s scrawl, I suppose. “Have you heard any passing airplanes so far?”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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