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in the morning, she’d rejected the idea and pulled her nightgown back over hear head, huddling under the sheets in shame. In disgust, she turned over in her bed, leaving her back to the card. When three o’clock came around and she hadn’t been able to close her eyes once, she sat up and looked at the darkened room. It must have been exhaustion, or an overwhelming tide of frustration and that other undefined emotion that swelled through her body. But the night had a way of obliterating common sense. Why couldn’t she have sex with him? Why not satisfy her curiosity? What harm could there be in giving in to the temptation to accept his kisses? And more? She wasn’t exactly sure she could do the “more” but she was definitely tempted to try.
    She shivered, remembering the “more” she’d experienced with Drew. She’d hated it. But she’d never felt so much from a kiss as she had when Victor had touched his mouth to hers. She’d never had that glorious tingling excitement that dared her to touch back. Drew’s kisses had been pleasant in the beginning, and cruel, almost punishing toward the end. But at no time had his touch, his mere presence, caused her so much excitement.
Worst case, it would be just as horrible as it had been with Drew and she’d be right back where she was now. But what if it wasn’t horrible? What if it was nice?
    Looking out the window, seeing the headlights from the traffic below form moving shadows across her bedroom, she thought about all the stories she’d heard about sex, the delights that others experienced but which had so far passed her by. What if she could feel what others felt? What if….
    No, she thought as she punched the pillow and laid back down. Drew had been right. She was frigid and wouldn’t ever be very good in bed. Why risk that kind of humiliation over something that she’d been living without for years? A lifetime. And been completely content at not having?
Besides, one didn’t miss what one had never experienced, right?
    By dawn, she was too tired to think about it any longer and was grateful when sleep finally overcame her. In the turmoil of her indecision, she’d forgotten to turn on her alarm clock the previous night so it was almost lunch time when she woke up.
    Her first thought when her eyes focused was how she needed to revise her present couple’s first kiss in the story. She didn’t even bother with her normal morning routine of showering and dressing in neat slacks but simply moved to her comfortable den area in her white night gown. She rushed to her computer and sat down, turning it on and then scrolling to the area where her hero and heroine meet initially. It was there that she found their kiss and added more texture, feelings, more heat. It took her about three hours, but when she finally pressed the save button again, she knew that the scene was much better. More alive and thrilling.
    Leaning back in her work chair, she blinked at the bright afternoon sunshine. Looking around at her apartment, she realized with surprise that she was still in her pajamas. “Goodness!” she gasped and stood up to get into the shower. Since she didn’t have an external schedule like others where they had to report to work at a specific time, eat lunch and come home, she’d forced a schedule upon herself to make sure she lived within a disciplined regimen. It helped her to write and concentrate, knowing when she was supposed to work and when she needed to stop. Some people might find her daily schedule a little out of the ordinary for a writer, but it added structure and comfort to her day.
    Every morning, she’d shower and dress just as if she were going to an office. After a brief breakfast of coffee and toast or cereal, she’d then work for four hours, have a light lunch, then work another four hours on her manuscripts. Victor had said she was a prolific writer yesterday but she attributed that to her work schedule, knowing how easily she could let small