<span style="font-weight: bold">Samantha Belweather</span><br/><br/>“No, Jules,” I said, shifting to brush my thigh against his - and bring his forearm into contact with the swell of my belly. My<span style="font-style: italic">meal</span>wasn’t moving much anymore - but more than enough for him to be able to feel it… “I think I’d very much like to go home with you right now,” I smiled.<br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold">Melissa</span><br/><br/>“Mmm,” Melissa moans, as the soap and shampoo, and the work of her and Clif’s hands, cleans the foul bile from her body. “I never knew how<span style="font-style: italic">good</span>it felt to be<span style="font-style: italic">clean</span>until now,” she laughs. “I feel so<span style="font-style: italic">alive</span>! So glad to<span style="font-style: italic">be</span>alive!” A slow, hungry smile slides across her face. “I wanna do something that’ll make me<span style="font-style: italic">feel</span>that way,” she drawls, taking a firm grip on Clif’s shoulder and drawing him to his feet - closer to her<span style="font-style: italic">slightly</span>parted,<span style="font-style: italic">smiling</span>lips. “A little privacy, please?” She says, turning her head towards her sorority sister, the moment of distraction matched by the<span style="font-style: italic">slightest</span>lessening of her grip…<br/><br/>Rolling her eyes, the other young woman turns to go, poorly placed, for that moment, to prevent, say, a dive for escape through the sorority bathroom window...