Pleasure so sweet it was almost painful quivered across her, as his lips blazed an untraceable path over every accessible inch of her body. From her fingertips up her arm and shoulder, coming down across her breast long enough for his tongue to tease first one nipple and then the next, before proceeding to the opposite shoulder and down her other arm. Stopping long enough to suck on each finger before starting his way back up again. Moving up her shoulder, around behind her, and down the center of her back. When his lips again rose to her neck, he pressed his body against her to cradle his arousal in her crevice as if by design. He turned her around finally. Their open mouths met in a ravenous kiss. She wrapped her arms around his neck, rubbed her breasts against his abdomen. He tore his mouth away , then discarded his own clothing in quick time. He turned her until she was facing him, and lowered his head to the valley between her breasts. His tongue drove her wild. His hands. Until now.He was in a long corridor, white and cool but with a clear sense of heat beyond its walls. The stonework was pierced, decorative. Bas-relief carvings line the walls, elaborate scenes featuring improbable sexual antics featured at every turn.At the far end of the corridor he saw two figures both dressed in Indian costume. One, the man, beckoned him. The other, the woman stood quietly beside him.From beside them another two figures emerged. To their left Dr Strange, looking just as Steve Ditko had imagined him, stood square on to the corridor, arms folded across his chest, eyebrows raised in scepticism as Gregg approached. To their right, Mandrake, top hat in hand, stared down the corridor in silent thought."Swami?" Gregg was convinced that that was who his dream host was.The man nodded, acknowledging Gregg's question.Gregg went closer until the Swami held up his hand to stop. "The question is, Gillstrom, what are you going to do about the girl, Samantha? Disrespect has been.
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