Of course, my object of worship had been a woman, well, girl really. And she’d never referred to me as her slave. No, she would never have been that...crude. Her pet is what she called me, her little poochie. Jesus. Hey, this can’t be a completely unfamiliar scenario to you. Everybody has seen this dynamic before, the cute guy or girl who has a strange friend that nobody else would touch with a ten-foot pole. They’re too fat or too tall, or they always have a 5 o’clock shadow by noon. Which. 'It was the drugs and whisky, Ma'am, ' I said, 'It was just bad luck the lady, Joy, came home when she did.''You made her do a striptease!'To Mozart, I thought. Bloody difficult to strip to the Marriage of Figaro but Joy had done her best. I put a warm hand on the choir mistress' black stockinged knee. 'Yes, ' I admitted, 'but I let her keep her hat on while she blew me.'Her eyes opened wide and I slid my hand between her thighs, past the soft white flesh above her stocking top, to feel the. More

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