<strong>Emily Fitzgerald</strong><br/><strong>Location</strong>: The apartment, her bedroom ((Age 18, 2010 continuity, active story))<br/><strong>Tag</strong>: John<br/><hr/>Once the cries peak with the sensation in her body, the two of them tumble onto the disarrayed quilt as they catch their breath.  Emily lifts her face long enough to smooth her hair under her, keeping it from John's face and spread on the pillow where they rest their heads.  With him still inside her, Emily cradles his encircling arms close, nuzzling his hand and forearm along her face and breast, placing little kisses in slow ripples from his fingertip to his knuckles.<br/><br/>She squeezes him closer again, clenching with her body, before reaching back with one hand to stroke his flank, his hip and glute-- reluctantly, she draws up her knees and, her fingers finding the base of his cock, still damp and mostly firm, she holds the condom at his base and shifts her hips forward drawing him out of her with a soft catch of breath, an emptying sigh as he withdraws.<br/><br/>Her ass rubs against him as she turns, her face to his, eyes downcast with long, fair lashes half-closed.  She strokes his chest with curled fingers, her breath spilling over his neck and cheek, dust motes in the sunlight drifting over the room and the sounds of Paris outside the window muffled by distance, like echoes far off of some long-dead city remembered by its lost children.<br/><br/>With her eyes still closed, she kisses him again-- this time, full upon his mouth, with the lingering tug so familiar to reluctant lovers at parting-- and rises to her knees on the bed before taking her feet.  Wasting no time, her hand falls onto a small stack of fabric-- clothes she'd laid out that morning, and she folds her hands on top and bottom to steady them like one praying.  She looks over John's body, all glistening-eyes and flushed, freckled skin, and smiles tenderly as she starts to dress.  Pale blue cotton panties, tiny cloth violets at the hips, a pair of blue jeans with the belt already in its loops.  Leaving the fly open, her breasts uncovered, she dips from the room in a quiet rush, trailing a black t-shirt and socks from her hand.