It was 2 o'clock on Sunday afternoon. She cursed out loud. She got up and started to look around the apartment — for some kind of clue or just to re...ish being alone in her home for once. She still wasn't daring or stupid enough to venture into "his" bedroom. Her room she was familiar with, and the third bedroom had been converted into a dressing room, where her clothing was kept — he refused to allow anything but her cage and the sex toys in her room. Returning to the living room, she finally. It was something that Elisabeta had really loved to do while sexually murdering a prisoner or a spy, and it was surprisingly nice that Béla hadn't died from it. That meant she could do it to her again ... and again...Béla relaxed in the communal baths, luxuriating in the bubbles caressing and tickling her body as they emerged from the filter return under her feet. Her attention was on Elaine and Marla on the Bridge. She could feel their exuberance as they watched their new home gradually peek. I was 9 or 10 when I went into Daddy's office, looking for something to read. That was the day I discovered that Heinlein wasn't only a writer of kids' stories. The first book I came across was "Time Enough for Love." It started me on a completely new Heinlein journey.I'd read "Methuselah's Children" many, many times. The main character in the book was Lazarus Long, a man who had happened to live several "normal' lifespans and the head of a family of long lived people who ended up being. “Nah, Marcus, she’s got on a white one today. Ha, Ha!” In the innermost recesses of my brain, I thought to myself ‘Now I have a student to fantasize about when Brad is laying on me. And he has a name... Marcus.’ Could it be that I never settled on a fantasy student because I had ruled out all the black male students I’ve had? Was I secretly prejudiced? Would thinking about a black student when I’m with Brad make me more excited? Less? I pushed that thought aside roughly with a shake as I tried.