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After the last load was coaxed out of him by Cheyenne, he lay there, his breathing labored as he tried to relax. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and sex, an olfactory testament to the barriers they had broken through together. “Nobody breathes a word,” Cheyenne finally said, her voice steady yet soft, a leader asserting control over the girls and the situation. He was no longer the man weighed down by loss; he was a man rediscovering the joy of living. “Make love to me, Larry. He was no longer the man weighed down by loss; he was a man rediscovering the joy of living. Make it easy and just tell me.”

“Sure, John, I would be glad to come over.