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that."

"Simple explanation," he said, shrugging, "I'm

bigger than one person."

He lowered his lips to mine and kissed me long

and hard, his right hand moving over my ribs to my

breasts.

"You are delicious," he said. My pulse was

racing. I looked past him at the stars and they seemed to blur and merge. He kissed my neck, then lowered himself so he could move his tongue under my collar, toward my breasts. I felt him lift me gently and find the zipper behind my dress. I started to resist, but the zipper flew down and he quickly nudged my dress

over my shoulders, driving his mouth to my breasts. It was as if I were on a magic carpet and not

just a beach blanket. It seemed to lift both of us off the

sand and begin to turn in a counter-clockwise circle.

He had the straps of my bra down and was

manipulating the hook with surgical expertise. It

popped and his hand moved up under the garment

instantly, lifting it away. Before the air could touch

my naked bosom, his lips were there, nudging,

strumming my nipples.

I felt a weakness in my legs as his legs moved

in between and forced mine to separate. It was

happening so fast--the blinking, out-of-focus stars

were falling like a downpour of diamonds around us,

the blanket was spinning, his hand was under the skirt

of my dress and his fingers were toying with my

panties. The roar of the ocean covered my small

protests and he was saying, "You're perfect. I knew

we would be great together,"

But this wasn't romantic and lovely. This frenzy of passion frightened me more than it excited me. Too

fast, I thought. It's happening too fast.

I pushed at his chest and shook my head, but he

smothered my exclamation with his lips, jabbing his