“He was a heavy breather. You could hear him puffing and blowing into the mike up there like some large and sweaty animal. I don't like that, never have. My father is like that on the telephone. A lot of heavy breathing in your ear, so you can almost smell the scotch and Pall Malls on his breath. It always seems unsanitary and somehow homosexual.”

“You…you got rid of that dress fast," I pointed out between heavy breaths. "I thought you liked it." "I do like it," he said. His breathing was as heavy as mine. "I love it." And then he took me to the bed.”

“His breath heavy, he brought his lips to my ear. "I need to be inside of you... as deep as I can go”

“Hopping over the side of the couch I landed on top of him. "My bones are so heavy! I don't think I can move." I groaned."Ack!" he grunted. "I can't breathe.""Oh noes! However will I get up so that my bubby can breathe?”

“It was the darkness that got you. It was heavy darkness, greasy and compelling. It made walls round you, and shut you in so that you felt like you could not breathe.”

“Do I like you?No. I don't like you. I don't think about you every moment of every day. I never relive the way it felt to have your hand holding mine, to be so close to you I could smell you, feel the warmth of you, breathe the air that you breathe. I don't remember your arm around me, making me feel safe, special...WANTED.”