"I think I tore my quad or something." I said. "Let me see" She said softly. I let go of my leg and straightened it out on the floor. Mrs. Roberts squ...ted down next to me. She ran her finger tips slowly up my leg starting at my calve, and ending at my quad. Her touch sent electric pulses radiating through my entire body. She pulled my shorts back exposing an unnecessary amount of my flesh. Her hand brushed against my crotch as she was pulling them up. She began squeezing different parts of my. I eat the meager meal and whisper my thanks, I know she understands the sentiment at least. She nods to me and begins her daily cleaning of my cage with a rag filthier than the torn "clothes" she's been allowed wear.While she cleans, Mina talks to me, her voice a consistent flow of pretty gibberish. I can't understand much that she says, but it's still nice to have friendly company, and I hope being able to vent to a stranger who doesn't understand her language brings her some comfort as well.. I would die first." But why did you do it then?" Ron asked plaintively."Because I thought I loved you and you wanted me to. Now I realize you can't love me. Ron, you just love yourself. Incidentally, I see you're having problems on the field. You're getting beaten too often. I don't know if you're losing a step or if you're giving your moves away. Are you working hard in practice? Have your coaches said anything? Does anything show in the films?"Ron was taken by surprise. He didn't realize. I took the job there…the first time I’ve ever contracted exclusively with one studio…for little reason other than that nothing else was available. Want to know what it feels like to try and sneak into a country club? Try getting a job in the recording business in Nashville. Fuck, it’s almost impossible. The climate at Blackbird reflects this. Elitist, without much youthful exuberance, the whole place is populated by what feels like a professional paint-by-numbers work crew. But to be honest,.