[Lizzie Bennington to a reporter who has asked for her opinion about Jack Archer's celebrated thighs.] __hen you come back from a set down and bring the match to a final set tiebreak and are a point away from winning the match, only to have what looks like an extremely fit player call a time out because of a cramp and then watch that player sit back and casually converse and laugh while you do your best to keep your mental focus and your body moving so you don__ grow cold and cramp yourself, I hardly think you__ concern yourself with his burgeoning manhood, let alone his thighs!

He was working that charm right now on the trainer who kneeled before him and touched his thigh as though it were the thigh of David, Michelangelo__ glorious statue come to life right here on court.

Well, with that filly in my line of vision blushing like a virgin, something in me was bound to stand at attention. And my walking legs were occupied.

I would praise the Lord above for a ticket to that ride.

Another flash of recognition sped through her mind. It__ him, her thoughts whispered through the fog of arousal. And she wanted to know who he was. What else he could do for her. What he__ feel like inside her. What he would unleash within her.

This was my love, her love --torn, damaged, broken, ripped apart and put back together. This was our tattered love.