There was a knock at the door. “Are you decent?” came Sandra’s voice. I moved to cover myself, then realised there was no point. “Not recently...” I shouted. “But you may as well come in!” The door opened, and Sandra came in carrying a steaming bowl of water with a small glass bottle floating in it. “I gave this oil to Lisa for Christmas,” she explained, knocking the door shut with her foot and setting the bowl on my desk. “Doesn’t look like she’s ever used it.” “Oil?” “Massage oil, of course,”. Normal skirts, at least from my home neighborhood, didn’t tend to have sexual experiences with the offspring of deities.“No, not at all,” she calmly admitted, as she was exploring the different feel of my much smaller male nipples with her teeth, gently. “We’re from quite a faraway place, Bardeau and I, and we came here as exiles. Originally, for just a short visit, to help a friend with a problem, but we’ve stayed ... and will remain here for a while yet. I’ve been studying the career of one. More

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