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.. be a camper. At the same time, the gentle swaying of the horse was comforting, and the absence of all sound, save the clopping of eight hooves, mad... her feel like she was already a thousand miles from civilization. At least Buttercup didn’t seem to be interested in stopping all the time. She walked more quickly than the horse in the picture back home, too.Suddenly, Bob was right beside her. She hadn’t seen him do anything ... hadn’t heard him give any command to his horse, but he was. At totally unexpected places or times, she’d expose herself and “make” me kiss her. Even though we made love a lot, she kept the temperature boiling. She sat on the brocade sofa while I brought her soda water with lime. I was still drinking champagne with dinner, but not anything else much. I pointed out the bearskin rug. “That’s real,” I said. My grandfather gave it to me. You have no objections?” “On something that old? I’m not a fanatic, I just care about a****ls.” “Me too,” I assured her. More

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