But I wasn't famous, and I guess I wasn't that good of a writer, judging by the thousands of submissions I made and only receiving rejections. How cou...d a writer break into that glorious world of authorship and acclaim if he was never given a chance. The most I could do was post stories on the internet. I had well over 200 stories running around on the internet, spread out over seven sites that accepted stories, by the time I was in this seedy bar, trying to drink and pop my way into death with. Quickly and silently I moved to my room and closed my door. By now my breathing had returned and I drew in huge gulps of air. I was excited beyond belief as I felt my pants becoming much too tight in the crotch. Opening my pants I whipped out my throbbing erection and tightly wrapped my fingers around the rigid shaft. At that moment all I could think of was seeing Susan nursing and her one naked breast dripping. I wanted so badly to watch while I took care of business.I stole from my room. Patting the lap ofher leather skirt, she told me to be a good sissy and lay back. I didn'teven resist. When she held the baby bottle to my lips I eagerly sucked,drinking down what I realized was this time actually baby formula. MissDanielle let me hold the bottle and slowly traced her fingers on thefabric of my dress. And then she started tickling me. I was scared thatshe was trying to make me wet myself again so she could keep me as a babygirl. But the tickling was making me laugh. “He’s getting old,” the Concierge thinks, “it never used to take this long. Well, maybe he stopped at Starbucks for a special treat.” An elevator clangs. The door opens. The tip of a black cane emerges and pulls its owner forward. The old timers know the Bell Captain had been right, it is him. The Concierge looks over her shoulder and sees eight pair of eyes staring across the Reception Desk. She cranes over her counter and looks up at the housekeepers and bellman crowding the Mezzanine..