Then he backs up and looks me over, watches me for a full minute, a strange expression on his face. I am confused. ‘You know,’ he says finally, �...your stock is down three points today.’ He keeps watching me. I watch him, too, wondering if this is a test. I am baffled as to why he would bring up this piece of ancient history, this potsherd, a relic that means nothing to anyone anymore. Certainly, it’s only been three weeks since he chloroformed me in the parking garage and carried me home with. Com.? It was a simple website, a single webpage really,outlining Mistress Emmanuelle?s philosophy.?It explained how, in so many instances, white subs claim they want to beenslaved to a Black woman, to be punished for their whiteness withoutcomprehending how disrespectful and ignorant they are of what actual slaves hadto endure.? She claimed to have a100-acre plantation that replicated the true slave experience and which hadNOTHING to do with sexual subservience or fulfilling some sassy. I especially don't interview people preparing to have sex. I think I'll have to ask you to get dressed. It's a very well known fact that you and Gwen Anderson are a couple. Does she know that you have sex with these ladies? In fact, her sister is in the room. Aren't you concerned that she'll tell her sister about your activities?"You need to understand several things, Detective," responded Steve calmly. "I will not be having sex with any of these ladies. I am totally dedicated and loyal to. “Oh no…” I groaned, trying to deflect the inevitable. “Have you ever had sex in this room?” “What? No! Of course not!” I thought it best not to admit to what I did on Wednesday afternoons when I had the office to myself. That kind of thing should remain private. “Well gorgeous, can I break your duck?” Rob had been unbuttoning his shirt and was about to open the front of his jeans. My heart was racing. I knew that we absolutely shouldn’t do this. For a start, I was tired and little bit sore.