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..Yesss Master. This...this girl wishes only to pleassssse," Icried, nodding my head. His touch was light and tender and he tracedover my thighs as if...his fingers were feathers. He moved one hand to mybreast. He traced around my nipple, flicking at it lightly. My bodyjumped as he touched me. My ankles strained against the chain holdingthem. I arched my back, trying to entice him more."Ohhhh...Massssterrrr!!!" I cried. He ran his hands up from my breast tomy arm, tracing it and then quickly and. But even that wouldn't be strictly accurate, because I am more than a mere narrator. Neither quite material nor quite spiritual, I am nevertheless very much a part of your world. When I want to be, that is. I am not an entity you can say hello to or shake hands with, nor will you ever awake from a dream because of me, startled at the revelation you have just experienced. I am wherever I want to be, whenever I want to be, and I can certainly have an influence on humans. I can be your unexpected. First was La Ronda, a tall black girl with a flame red afro who would live directly below Sara Jean. La Ronda favored big, jangly pieces of jewelry and flower print, low cut dresses that showed off her mighty cleavage. She looked like something out of '70's blaxploitation movie. Sara Jean liked her immediately, for her audacity if nothing else. A few hours later came Heather with the smooth, porcelain white skin and frizzy, raven hair, who would have the unit directly next door. Sara Jean was. It was his Mom's writing. Turning to her with the robe he had tears in his eyes. After helping her on with it he handed her the note."And MY Mom picked it out, she knows how much I like this color. Not many people like it," she said through tears of her own.Putting on his own robe he said, "I think they have resigned themselves to the fact that we love each other and are going to be together when we can. I'm glad they approve, makes it much easier."Following her down the stairs he turned for.
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