Riter,” moaned the panting woman. She stared up at me with glossy, blue eyes. Her small breasts quivered. “I will.”“She's not your sex slave a...y longer,” I continued. “She's mine. Here at work, you have to give her as many orgasms as she gives you. You two can have all the fun you want.”“Of course, Ms. Riter.”“Good,” I said and grinned at Mom. “Let's get dressed and go home. You have dinner to cook.”“I do, Daughter,” she said, her eyes brimming with joy. When Dad was still alive, she always had. She slipped her purse into the drawer and opened the windows, allowing in the brisk fall air. She stood at the window and looked into the night, thinking how very grown up she was, how ready to take on the world. She inhaled deeply of the fresh air and turned back to her desk. She settled in her desk chair, her feet dangling, and looked through the assigned agenda, and examining her notes made in bright red ink. Almost immediately, people started entering the room. A few of them seemed to know. More

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