I glanced over to the tiny inn. From its windows I saw the faint orange glow of a fire. Maria was in there. So close, and yet so far away. I could see...the knight without a soul leaning against the door frame, his hand was on the pommel of his sword. He needn't have bothered. I was bested.I wondered if I had ever stood a chance against this monster.The demon prince sat down gracefully in his own chair. We stared at each other from across the tea table he had constructed. With a flick of his. Whether it was virginal white and frilly undies or black and sexy, or any one of my French maids, nurses uniform or regular daywear. I would spend hours capturing myself on film and the excitement of doing it was only matched by the excitement of getting the prints back from the printers. I can well remember the first time. I had been putting it off for ages, as I was worried about anyone getting hold of the prints. Finally I took the plunge and after borrowing a tripod from a friend, got. We pored over the ads from others traveling ahead of us on the path to this exciting ruination. They didn't seem to be guilt-ridden sinners or hell bent hedonists. They looked just like us but wearing a lot less clothes and obviously having a lot more fun.We carefully crafted a brief ad, twenty five words or less. Chose an anonymous picture of Karen, showing all her best parts-and she has some really good best parts-but with her face descretely turned away. Pictures were the hard part, we. But despite her skinniness, Fanny decided that Qafira was actually rather attractive. A difficult thing to admit to her friends, of course. They'd think she'd gone mad. Or, at least, lost her powers of discrimination.She looked around at her classmates, all of whom were built on the same generous model as she was. As was only natural. Large breasts. Swelling stomachs. Full fleshy arms, generous buttocks, thighs that pressed together, and more than enough flesh for anyone. This was the way it.