And I had learned that the line between fantasy for her and what she could take truly was the thinnest of anyone I had thus far met. She was evidently...an extremely gifted masochist and edge player.A few weeks after some more role play I had rented a small apartment right across the street from her. By then she had let slip her name and I had searched for her on my laptop in the early hours of the morning. It hadn’t taken long to find the Tuesday who owned a gaming store 30 minutes from me. In. “Well that just means we have all afternoon to get know each other better with your mother out the way,” he grinned and blocked her way.“What on earth do you mean Walter!” Mary spat at him.Walter grabbed Mary by the shoulder and hip and flung her across the room. She careered into the couch, dropping her handbag. Walter pounced; pinning her beneath him.“Don’t treat me like shit on your shoe you fucking stuck-up slag! You take all the presents I give you! I bet those nylons you’re wearing are. Anassumption that's maybe right or maybe not but that says so much of her,whatever it might say of me. An assumption that, when she heard that I'dcalled in sick, thought: Poor thing, I'll bring some nice hot souparound, wish all the best and hope to see you soon back at work. Like me,she is from somewhere else, and doesn't know how to behave.So she came. Sweet as she is, wanting to say (despite all of the gray dimness of ourdaily working lives) let us connect -- sweet as I would, myself, like. Julie’s car was on the drive. I opened the door quietly, and crept in. Crept into my own house, like a stay out late teenager. I could almost hear my father shouting, “and what time do you call this Susan?” I made myself a cup of coffee, and kicked my heels off, not that they’d been on long. After about twenty minutes, as I was on my second coffee, they both emerged. Brian looked embarrassed. Julie didn’t. “I’d better get going,” he said. He kissed me.“Mmm,” I said, “Julie tastes nice.”Brian.
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