Superorganism. A biologist coined that word for our great African ant colonies, claiming that consciousness and intelligence resided not in the individual ant but in the collective ant mind. The trail of red taillights stretching to the horizon as day broke around us made me think of that term. Order and purpose must reside somewhere other than within each vehicle. That morning I heard the hum, the respiration of the superorganism. It's a sound the new immigrant hears but not for long. By the time I learned to say "6-inch Number 7 on rye with Swiss hold the lettuce," the sound, too, was gone. It became part of the what the mind would label silence. You were subsumed into the superorganism.

It's fine, but don't ask me to strip again or I'm going to wonder what your intentions really are.

His grip on my shoulder tightens. His other hand behind my head caresses me softly and I sigh."Touch me, Skye."His voice is rough, almost sounding like a groan.

With you and me, I don't know what anything means. We're pushing each other away and yet I don't seem to be able to let you go.

I want him and even if it's frightening, even if I may not be completely ready for a relationship, I want him. Now... And tomorrow, and all the following days.

Believe me, I knew you enjoyed it without voicing it that way. It was like your body screamed for me to take you." All too true, but I didn't like it to be told aloud. I arched an eyebrow, something I couldn't do when sober. "I'm pretty sure if I put a hand on your crotch, you're sporting a boner. It works both ways.