. vanilla?" she asked, her face serious and concerned.I pondered a smart-ass remark about a vanilla question from a chocoholic, but managed to stifle ...yself. She was seriously asking and deserved a serious answer. "I have never complained about anything in bed, have I? You're all the woman I can handle." I pointed at the AOL sign-on screen. "The things we've added from the net haven't hurt, either, but they're just icing." Chocolate frosting," she corrected, glancing at a printout titled "How. I felt my blood, trained to circulate slowly through my veins, starting to warm as well as my breathing increased in speed, escaping from my self-induced catharsis.Up her silky robe, I went, and by the moment the chill of my skin met the hotness of her entrance, she gasped loudly, and her eyes filled with knowledge. "Cold Death..." my index finger slid between her petals; she was wet, inviting… "You are Cold Death..." then she closed her eyes.No more defying look. No more chin up. No more. More

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