“No. I mean, what is she to you?”Andy’s eyes were boring into me as I thought. It was a good question. What was Andy to me? She was my kitten, b...t I could hardly explain to someone that meant a chemically programmed sex slave. She was my roommate, but that sounded like we were assigned the same room by some liberal college somewhere. Friend? She was more than that. Lover? Yes. Concubine? I am not a king. Personal slut? Andy was not at all slutty unless I told her to be.I knew Andy remembered my. I was the only girl in the room at the moment, and when there'snobody in a locker room, it's basically just a collection of lockers andbenches with some toilets in the back. Karen's locker was easy to find,and her combination was even easier to remember - 17, 17, 17. I put mynicer clothes in the locker, locked it again, and then went off in searchof the track.***I have this habit of running up stairs until I get out of breath. It getssome more blood going to my brain and gets the heart pumping.. More

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