You pull a bottle of champagne out of the refrigerator where it has evidently been chilling all day. But it’s not quite cold enough yet. So you draw...me a bath. Warm and full of bubbles. I settle in and you bring in the flutes of champagne. I sip mine while you drink yours more quickly in order to strip and come into the bath with me. You brush the bubbles away from my shoulders and kiss my neck, running your hands down my shoulders, and my arms, and settling weightlessly at my waist. You trace. Not of my own volition, youunderstand, but inadvertently.Once I can sorrowfully admit, I was a prosperous gentleman, called John,in a far off land where both men and women had great freedoms without theconstraints of our restricted world.Ah my. Would that I could return to that life. Alas that is but a dream.Perhaps I should explain myself further.As John, I was strolling along a remote beach when perchance I spied amost intriguing vessel.It was most unlike any that I had hitherto set eyes. More

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