" Sarah stepped up to Ken. "And tonight, since it looks like we're pretty much the same size, you can wear my spare leotard." What??" Ken gasped out l...ud, instinctively backing away out of fear. "You mean, I have to practice in a leotard?" Of course, silly," Julie rolled her eyes as if to ask how could anyone be so clueless? "Everyone wears leotards to practice." Julie turned to Sarah, "Mommy said she'd buy Kathy a leotard and toe shoes, if she wanted," she stated, smugly."Now, Julie, you go. Jade and Iheaded down a hallway, and into a food preparation area, with half adozen staff.I realized I was famished.Pulling on her hand, to stop her, I told her I was hungry. For food.She laughed."Getting ram-fucked by Ricky Ray can do that to a gurl!"I ate, she nibbled, we sipped champagne, and we revelled in theafterglow of an amazing night so far. After our nosh, she grabbed myhand, and we slipped arm in arm through parts of the mansion that werenew to me. We travelled indoors downstairs. Anything less is anti-masculine. End of story. The following tale is the story of James Hawthorne Summers. A six-foot-one, black-haired and green-eyed Caucasian male living in the city of Brockton, Massachusetts. He’s basically your everyday average guy. A managing supervisor at Bank of America in Boston. He makes one hundred and thirty thousand dollars a year after taxes. Not bad considering he only has a bachelor’s degree in business from Boston College and couldn’t afford to go back to. Poor Miranda was silent throughout the singing while her sister and Katie joined in enthusiastically. I had a lot of sympathy for the way she was feeling. I was no opera singer, but I held my own in the school chorus. Unlike Kyle, who couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket. Unlike Jason, whose rich baritone carried the harmony of the Doxology throughout the little church. So beautiful. Miranda gave me a mental squeeze to acknowledge my presence as we immersed ourselves in the warmth of his voice.The.