I never“deflowered” a virgin before.”“Deflowered! So that’s what they call it?”“Um-hmm.”“But wha...ever for?”“It’s like a flower, is it not? So — the tight bud ofthe flower has been forcibly opened and the petalsplucked.”She blushed down to the roots. “Well, I suppose that’s ametaphor.I won’t say I feel plucked.”“Something that rhymes with plucked,” he smiled.“What rhymes. You don't have to do that, I can grab a bite on the way....Well, if you're making something anyway, then sure, I'll be there at noon, thanks. Bye now.” While I was finishing the shelving that afternoon I remembered I was meeting Ann at six, but that should give me plenty of time to see what Hazel wanted done and still get home to clean up. Thursday I started a littler earlier than usual to make sure I finished the small job I had for the morning and finished in plenty of time. I stopped at a. She didn't need it all the time, just usually took it when she really wanted a long rest; I kind of figured this out with living her for so long, and noticing her snoring louder than usual during those times.My partner in crime is also my friend Charlie whom wanted my mom as much as me if not more. After laying out my plan to Charlie he was in, and I took steps to make sure our secret would be taken to our graves: trust me I am very careful.It was a Friday night and I told my mom I was going. Now how could this delicate piece of circle change that? Walking into our bedroom I couldn’t look upon the four poster bed without a pang of jealousy. How long? Three months? Eight months? It was my prison. I was dried up inside, long past crying for sexual contacts. Hanging it above my bed I looked upon the knots. They were tied so intricately. Yet if I were to tug on one strand it would have loosened it. I got so engrossed I didn’t hear my husband come into the room. ‘What’s that thing?’ He.