Her tense body completely relaxed as Delia panted softly, savoring the post-climax serenity.She looked once more at her clock. 6:45 AM. Sighing, Del...a stayed in bed for a few more moments before abruptly pushing herself up and climbing out of bed. As much as she wanted to go for another round, she couldn’t miss her 8 AM class. It was organic chemistry, or in other words, a hell-dimension of suffering only made worse by spotty attendance.There was always a certain someone that made. She sighed heavily. Maybe a life away from England wouldn’t be all that terrible after all, and in what better place then France? Grace despised the life she had led in England. She was like an untamed mare that you try to lock up in a stall but it would never work because all it really wanted was a life of sprinting in the fields. In other words she was like a prisoner in her own home. The thing Grace wanted more than anything was just to paint. She wanted to be an artist. But it would never. More

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