I Hurt With You. I

I'm A Middle-class Former Housewife Who Goes To My Daughter's Softball Games.

He Pulled My Coat Off My Shoulders, Looked At It With Distaste, Hung It On The Back Of One Of The Chairs Pushed In Under The Kitchen Table. "you Are Beautiful". No One Had Ever Looked Me In The Eyes And Said That. Eric To Sookie, Page 208.

As I Climbed Up Into The High Old Bed, The Large Fly In My Personal Ointment Did The Same. Had I Actually Told Him He Could Get In Bed With Me? Well, I Decided, As I Wriggled Down Under The Soft Old Sheets And The Blanket And The Comforter, If Eric Had Designs On Me, I Was Just Too Tired To Care. "woman?" "hmmm?" "what's Your Name?" "sookie. Sookie Stackhouse." "thank You, Sookie." "welcome, Eric.

As The Water Pounded On My Back, I Reflected That I Must Be Pretty Simple. It Didn't Take Much To Make Me Happy. A Long Night With A Dead Guy Had Done The Trick.

It's Hard Not To Respond When A Master Of The Art Of Kissing Is Laying One On You.