"Oh no, Tricia, no!" My warrior's voice was horrified.I heard other things now, things breaking, screaming and then silence, except for him."Tricia, b...by, stay with me. Don't die, you can't die! Stay with me," my beautiful guardian begged. That wasn't right, angels shouldn't beg. "Marcus!" he roared, his breathing ragged, sobbing.I tried to tell him it was okay but I couldn't remember how to speak."Don't leave me, Tricia, please. Marcus!" His voice was filled with agony and I couldn't help. Police would not give many details about the case, but they did say that it looked like the homeowner, Harvey Bland, had been surprised by two masked men entering the house in the broad daylight of the late afternoon through the patio door--which sources say was forced. Bland had allegedly been assaulted and duct-taped to a kitchen chair with his eyes taped over as well, while the men allegedly went about moving through the house looking for valuables. No indications were given from authorities. “That was incredible! I’ve never had my own private erotic show before,” I said. “That was the sexiest thing I have ever seen.” “I just wanted to show you what I do to relieve tension when you’re not around,” she said, “but that was just the opening act.”She pulled me up off the chair and stood me up beside it. Her hands went straight to my belt, then my button and fly and before I knew it, my pants and briefs were around my ankles, my erection standing very proudly in front of her face. She. . hard." Sorry." Why? I deserved it. So ... Tent?" If you don't mind."Tim padded into the back bedroom, a light soon illuminating the rectangle, and reemerged with a khaki long sleeved shirt. On the back, which he proudly displayed, an epigram done in black paint with a narrow brush read, "What Really Matters Is Immaterial—SAMO." Cool, hunh?" said Tim."Who's SAMO?" asked Marisol."You haven't seen his graffiti?" Every one shook their heads. "He's a graffiti artist and ... an artist artist. He's.