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"Fuck!" Fiorella said.Lauren rushed over to her bags."My shoes are gone!" she cried out.I checked my stuff, looking for the money. I hadn't left it all in the room. I had stashed a hundred euros in my shoes. The rest was gone."The money is gone," I said.Lauren and Fi looked over at me. I frowned."All of it?" Lauren asked."No. I had a hundred euros stashed in my sock." Fuck!" They took your shoes?" Yeah."She sat on the bed. I smiled."What?" she asked."We can track your shoes." Fi," I said in Italian, "We can track Lauren's shoes." I doubt it. A pair of black Pradas aren't exactly rare in Italy." You underestimate me."Back to English. "Lauren, take my hand."I grasped her hand. I pictured her shoes. I thought of her -- her spirit. She loved those shoes. She was bonded to them."You understand the principles of contagious magic, correct?" I muttered to Fiorella."Of course. That's basic." The shoes are connected to Lauren. She loved them." Oh! But she has owned them such a short time. The. She looked up to me and with her hand gently turning my face to hers she laid a wonderful kiss on me.This led to some intense making out and I began to smell her rising scent of sexual desire. Pretty soon, we were naked on the couch going at it the rest of the afternoon. I don't think either of us ever knew who won the football game.We seemed an odd marriage of personalities in a couple of ways. I was a computer nerd, never a jock by any means. She had been married to high school football coach who had majored in Physical Education. She was determined not to age and I just felt you took what life gave you.Our relationship grew and we were together at either her place or mine six or seven days a week. The sex was sweet and we placed no demands on each other as to what we wanted or our future together.One weekend she flew to see her sister for a week and I missed her. Each day I missed her more. We talked on the phone like teenagers for hours. I went to pick her up at the airport and.
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