Immediately, her tiny feet began to gain in tempo. Her young mind was not at ease and she hummed a love song to herself. She was thinking that her uncle could get quite up-tight if he found out she was meeting Clete up here. It was one thing, a very socially precarious thing, to be engaged to a black man, but to be meeting him alone up here, like this, where a number of girls often met their boyfriends – and became pregnant – was quite another. She knew she was being daring with Clete, but she had actually done nothing really wrong, after all, had she?

The first time she had come this way with Clete, he had been hunting Liz Clark's runaway dog that was plaguing the local farmers. Clete had cornered the huge, vicious animal, but the rifle, with which he was such a fine shot, had jammed. While Nancy stood gasping with fright, her hands pressed to her pounding heart, Clete had clubbed the massive animal with the useless – almost – firearm until he had run away yelping. Somehow, only the pain had deterred the dog from killing them, though from the deep teeth marks he left in the butt of the Winchester, Nancy felt intuitively that he had felt no fear for Clete.

Nancy shook off the fright of the memory and leaned against woodwork on the verandah. Inside was old furniture where, after Clete arrived, they could sit and talk and make plans for their future. Nancy smoothed down her skirt and looked at her watch. She had arrived late already, so where was Clete?

***

DesirЋe put down her wine glass, which had already been filled and emptied twice, and leaned against the firmness of Mark's body. She felt his face coming down to her and she lifted hers for the kiss, allowing her mouth to open and his tongue to move lightly around the inside of her mouth. So far, this was nothing new. They had kissed many, many times in the last eight months, and he had even touched her breasts. Last week, before they had shaken off the temptation to go further, he had touched her damp pussy through the fabric of her panties.