She cleaned off the table and headed into the kitchen and he followed. He began to run the water for the dishes, but she pulled him from the sink and pointed to the pile of scattered pictures on the table. She watched the changes in his expression as he looked at the pictures. She found herself remembering things that she had buried; particularly about them She poured them both a glass of chilled, alkaline water. He noticed that she smelled of peaches and sage as she straddled his lap. Her lips placed against him were pleasant and electric. She kissed his forehand, then cheek, then chin, then neck, then lips again. His lack of response did not deter her. Neema took her arms out of the dress, let it fall down to her hips and, without pause, took off his shirt and rubbed his tattoo which read: Meu cora ção pretence a Neema. Does your heart still belong to Neema?” she purred across his skin....
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