What does it feel like to be infected?" "I-- I can't describe it. " I force the words out. Can't breathe, can't breathe, can't breathe. His skin smells like smoke from a wood fire, like soap, like heaven. I imagine tasting his skin; I imagine biting his lips. "I want to know. " His words are a whisper, barely audible. "I want to know with you.
Rob Lowe, I've known him for a long time because I have three daughters, ya know. He's been cruising those three girls for a long time.