.. in a gallery, Fallen angels, looking a lot like you.We forget ... where we come from sometimes, I had a dream, it was really (both of) you-ow-ow.�... (I added the parenthesis words to the lyrics.)The pictures showed Lynette and her ‘older-looking-future-cousin’ Kaleigh in mirrored bare breasted images from their two seduction stripteases of me. Kaleigh’s was from my ‘future’ fortieth birthday event at her Fitness for Boomers club, and Lynette’s from the evening she gave herself to me for the. Joan spent much of her time at the hotel beach. She wore a tiny bikini that was really just three patches of crochet. The first night after work she told me she had been approached by a man on the beach. They flirted, but went their own way as the sun set. The conference ended Friday and everyone else rushed to get home for the weekend. Joan and I stayed. That night we went to the hotel bar for a drink. Joan went in by herself. She was wearing a soft silk dress that clung to her like a second. It's some kind of cloth, and after a minute you finally spit it out onto the floor.Your memory of last night is foggy, a text guilt tripping you into another bar-hopping Saturday evening. What was the last bar we stopped at? I know we hit Code breaker, 10th street lounge, whatever was next door, and that one on the corner, but I know we took a taxi. . . somewhere. Something between a laugh and a sob comes out of your lips. Maybe we came here? Oh shit, are Troy and Jess here? You shake your head. “Good, slave,” Mistress Mimosa said down to me.Her praise gave me more pleasure, my cock twitching as I was a good slave for her. I felt like an object, an object for her entertainment and pleasure if I was lucky.My mistress walked back to her throne, taking a seat as I remained on my back.“Your cock tells me you are enjoying your submission, slave,” Mistress Mimosa said.“Very much, Mistress Mimosa,” I replied from the ground.“Come to me and remove my boots, slave,” Mistress Mimosa commanded.I.