Primal

Roiling hot spa-water massaged Taryn’s body. Across from her lounged Jim, silent but for an occasional groan of pleasure. Over the last twenty minutes or so, Taryn found herself at times a nameless woman—a primal woman spying through foggy shadows at a male who soaked in a steaming hot spring; a feral woman crouched behind bushes, salivating at an opportunity to assuage her winter-long famine with a feast called Jim.

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