Based on hearsays and news that Dara heard, es don’t let their customers kiss them on the lips. They held the act of kissing sacred. The only one they allow to kiss them is the one they truly love.

                Jiyong probably held the same principle.

                When he walked towards her, Dara thought that the first thing he will do was to kiss her on the lips. She already prepared herself for that. She gargle a glass full of mouthwash before coming to his room only to be disappointed in the end. It soon became apparent that he was not going to kiss her on the lips.

                Again, she wanted to back out but didn’t proceed because of two things. First, she needed and wanted to get pregnant. She was clinging on some stupid notion—or hope—that Jiyong will love her when she gets pregnant. Secondly, the little kisses he was planting tenderly all over her body felt really good. He was really good at it. He was the best and it was probably to compensate for not kissing her on the mouth.

               Within seconds of his tender and persuasive ministrations, she felt her body come to life. Her senses, all five of them, seemed to have awaken. She could smell, hear, see and feel him more clearly. She could swear she could also taste him even though she didn’t do anything.

               She was starting to be guilty. So far, she was passive. The receiver of the action. She knew she had to do something to him aside from the sound of encouragement escaping involuntarily from

                But she can’t start what she needed to do simply because what he was doing felt sooooo good it was next to impossible to think of other things. She was flushed with anticipation. Where will he kiss her next? The thought made her shiver with excitement.

                It’s not important anymore if he doesn’t want to kiss her on the lips. The whole thing was pleasurable. More than she can ever think of. When they talk about ual pleasures in books and magazines, she believed the writers. But she didn't thought it would happen to her, that she will feel it herself.

                But now that it’s already happening, she realized, even if the writer was the most creative and imaginative of all, they can’t describe exactly how she felt. The narratives would describe the sensation as hot or burning, but in reality, it was more than feeling hot. She was not burnt. The feeling was, she wanted to feel more of the feeling.

                Maybe it was like dying. Even though how morbid it may sound. For what was dying? Breathing her last. Letting go of the only thing that mattered—life itself. And life for her was all about putting everything in order, routines, avoiding human contact, doing things on her own, alienation, isolation.

                That was her life.

                She realize that when she allowed Jiyong to kiss and touch her like that, She also permitted herself to die. Because what was really happening, at the deepest level and beyond the so-called delicious sensations was letting go.

                Freedom.

                That was all the good feeling was about. She was headed for the land of the free. Jiyong released her. Every kiss he gave her melted the lock that held her captive, that she tried to break free long before but didn’t succeed.

                When he guided her to lie on the bed and kiss her thighs, she giggled out of those chains. At first she was unsure but when the first giggle escaped her lips, she knew she was finally free.

                Dead.

                The Sandara inside the shell was gone for good.

                The woman in Jiyong's bed was the true Sandara, still with all the quirks but free.

                She had to figure out how to kiss him back and react to his kisses at the same time. Because really, how could she dance when the earth was turning? Jiyong wanted to be kissed on his neck, nape, shoulders while doing wonders with her bikini bottom. If it did not feel sooo good, she could and would kiss him wherever he wanted. But the case was, the only thing she could do was to giggle, kick and twist.

                He suddenly stopped and stared at her intently.

                “You want more?” he asked in a teasing manner.

                She nodded.

                “Can’t take without giving. It’s my turn.” He grinned and rolled of her, lied beside her.

                “What will I do?” she asked.

                “Just like what I did. Then we’ll see.”

                “But it’s already late.”

                “I don’t care if the sun will rise soon. Go on, undress me.”