The haze and warmth of the summer evening added to the atmosphere of passion on the small lake, deserted except for a canoe drifting lazily on its surface. In it, clasped in close embrace, lay George and Marilyn, gazing into each other's eyes and murmuring the special phrases of lovers.
With a delicious silken rustle that set the canoe to gently rocking, she pressed herself still closer to him.
"Georgie," she sighed, "will you love me always?" "Of course, my darling," he whispered tenderly. "Which way would you like me to try first?"
With a delicious silken rustle that set the canoe to gently rocking, she pressed herself still closer to him.
"Georgie," she sighed, "will you love me always?" "Of course, my darling," he whispered tenderly. "Which way would you like me to try first?"
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