by Tom Rice
From The Erotic Review (86: 74-8)
The ticking of the clock was infuriating. Dr Francis narrowly overcame his urge to hurl it against the wall, smashing it to smithereens. Instead he snatched it off the bedside table and slid it under the pillow. The metronomic beat, though, refused to be smothered. He could still hear the tiny scratches of the second hand, each tick like the stroke of a pencil crossing through another second of his life. Read more …
Tags: erotic, fiction, Tom Rice
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