Proserpina

Being with Lucien was an intense experience. He would come to me at night, carrying the strong odors of drink and expensive cologne, of maleness and musk. Sweeping me into his arms, sometimes kicking the front door shut in his impatience to take me, we would indulge in a frenzy of passionate coupling as though we had not seen each other for years. It would continue till the wee hours of the morning, when he would leave, dropping a kiss on my exhausted face. Sore and tender, ...