"No it's just feels strange. Its awkward having to sit down to use the rest room," I said. "Don't worry you will get used to it. Looks like my machine...is recharged," she said and she led me back to chair. This time it didn't hurt as much. I must have been used to it. She also used it on my eyebrows and shaped them in a fine arch. "Look at the time, it's ready for you to get ready for dinner. Here are your vitamins. I want you to take two at breakfast and two at dinner. Here is some lotions to. She waits hand and foot on my father and obeys his every order. And she expected me to follow suit. Me? I’m different. I’ve always been the type of gal who asks questions instead of obeying everything my parents say. That’s not a good trait in a Muslim woman. Somali culture is deeply patriarchal, and ninety nine percent of all Somalis follow the Sunni branch of Islam. I’ve heard of Somali Christians but I don’t think I’ve ever seen one. At least not to my knowledge. If a Somali man or Somali. “Do you mind if I sit in the front with you?” he purrs out the question.The cabbie takes no convincing. As Victor sits beside the man, the cabbie shivers with desire as the hem of Victor’s shirt rises to reveal his stocking tops and creamy thighs. The man watches mesmerized as he wiggles seductively in the seat with his hem revealing glimpses of black, silk panties. Victor smiles at him suggestively, following the man’s eyes to his crotch. Victor buckles the seatbelt and leans across to whisper. They had been walking a couple blocks when Grey spoke up. ‘I’m not carrying your little chippy all the way there,’ he said as he looked around, ‘Besides carrying her like this is bone anyhow. It’s asking for trouble.’ Miranda looked around, her surroundings feeling less familiar than they had during the day. ‘What kind of trouble?’ she asked cautiously. ‘The kind of trouble that makes her suitors back at the frat look like goddamn Battersea boys.’ ‘Who?’ ‘It’s what we call ‘The Boy Scouts’ back.