Clark started pulling my clothes off, shirt first, bra, shoes then lastly, my pants and panties. Even though we'd done this three times I was feeling modest and flushed with embarrassment. The feeling puzzled me for a few moments until I realized I wasn't under the morals blocking influence of alcohol. In the cramped bottom of the pitching canoe taking my clothes off was a carefully slow, tantalizing process. Once I was nude he and I both worked to get him undressed. When our clothes were a jumbled pile at our feet, I laid back down then held my arms open, inviting him to me. This time we weren't in the grip of a drunken frenzy, we were sober, deliberate, and getting turned on by each other, not by liquor. Clark did something he never did before. He looked me directly in the eyes, tilted his head then kissed me gently, softly, quickly. I watched him warily when he did but the caress of his mouth on mine was not repulsive. I liked the kiss so I kissed him back with a little. It looked weak and watery but I thought a quick stroll around the hotel would blow any cobwebs away; the wind was strong enough to blow anything away but I set out anyway. I didn’t bother taking a coat as I didn’t feel like going back upstairs and I only planned on being out and back in perhaps 10 – 15 minutes. I comforted myself with the thought that a walk on Boxing Day is traditional and stepped out. I had not walked very far when I thought I might have been a little hasty in my planning, the wind was bitter and cutting through my jumper, I hurried towards the end of the building to obtain a little shelter. Although not one particularly troubled by either cold or heat, I was freezing. I tried two of the doors back into the hotel but they were locked and so pressed on suddenly not amused by my huge sprawling building. I rounded the next corner into what felt like an arctic gale and was about half way back, teeth chattering when I was struck by a burst of squally, ice cold rain. It.
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