The feel of his lips on her throat made her want to fall into a quicksand and vanish for ever
The feel of his hand on her shoulder seared through her like a mouthful of boiling tea had scalded her throat,
The feel of his arms around her went through her like the touch of a cat sleeping on her bare legs
The sight of his unshaven face affected her as much as if he were hitting her with a frozen dead cat.
He had less humour than a poisonous spider in a plug hole in the bath.
He tried to touch her heart but she was wearing too many layers..
He wanted to remove her pants but she knew they would not fit him
The feel of his thumb on her knee passed as fast as a burning Camel crossing a motorway on steroids
The smell of his Tweed jacket assailed her like the smutty grey fog in Liverpool in the 50s.
His grip was as fierce that of a female tiger with her cub.She felt wanted.Now she has killed him and she really is wanted by the police.
His strong warm hands reminded her of when mother changed her nappies 47 years ago.She never thought sh would feel like that again.
The feel of his tongue on her cheek was worse than a frost bite in Alston in a bad winter.
His shirt brushed over her bare skin like sandpaper on velvet.
What a rip off.
How my heart sings 