He was carrying a briefcase."Hi," he said to Bree, who was standing there gaping at him. "I'm Professor Cary Gordon. You'd be Miss Spencer, the photog...apher, right?"Bree recovered quickly. "Yes, I'm Bree Spencer. We'll do this whenever you're ready, Professor Gordon."He loosened his tie a bit. "Please, call me Cary. After all, you're about to know every-thing else, right?"Bree laughed with him. She adjusted the camera and told him she was ready.The first shot showed Cary behind a desk, reading. I am not usually a writer of ‘dark’ tales, yet the subject of this challenge is a gloomy, foggy picture with a lone woman walking through empty streets. For me, this picture inspired a violent story where a fine line between rape and reluctance is explored. This is an especially short tale, but I hope I have given readers of this narrative a complete story. I have taken the liberty of using two male characters from the pages of a famous novella from the past. My female character (Ellen) is. It had been quite a few minutes now of Tim licking her, and she now noticed that he was finger fucking her on top of that. How long had he been doing that? She was unaware, as her brain was drifting in and out of focus constantly, as her body told her to just relax and enjoy the feelings he was giving her. She heard her sister screaming as a second orgasm rocked her body. She then felt Tim's tongue and fingers depart, as she found herself extremely disappointed.That disappointment soon turned. "No. Only part-time, four to nine p.m., weekdays and Saturdays. But I've got a morning paper route, too." Jeez! Mr. Industrious! Must cut down some on your high school hijinks," she said. But we were at our apartment's door and I didn't have to respond to her comment.I unlocked the door and Mom was waiting for us in the corridor close by. I introduced her to Donna Johnson and lugged Donna's suitcase into my bedroom. We didn't have a guest bedroom, but Mom had already changed my sheets for our.