This lasted until Jason's graduation a year and a half later. Then Daria suddenly and rather unexpectedly had gotten cold feet. Jason was getting a li...tle too serious for her. She was afraid he might start talking marriage. And their sex play was becoming more intense all the time. More intense than she seemed ready for. One day, a few weeks before graduation, he'd asked if she wanted him to take her to a sex club and put her on stage. That threw her for a bit of a loop. She said she'd think. You decide to lay there and enjoy it and see where things go. I start at your shoulders… rubbing, massaging… work my way down your back… working your lower back, removing the knots that are there…. I slide my hands down over your hips, lingering for but a moment as I move downward and start massaging your thighs… did my finger just graze your pussy? Did I feel your swollen lips? Do I know how arroused you are? Or was it your imagination? I slowly rub the back of your thighs… your knees… work on. The man really did look like he’d know all about women, especially whether or not they were willing to be seduced. She doubted he had much experience with the latter. Stef almost wanted to laugh, he was so attractive. He had everything. Tall (at least 6’4), muscular (jacked, as her niece would say), and, worst of all, those stupid broad shoulders and thick forearms she was so fond of. As close as he was, Stef had felt him stiffen at that last remark. A new type of tension wound itself around. And everywhere they went people were telling stories: the Tale of the Adulterous Wife and the Talking Parrot, the Tale of Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves, the Tale of the Thief and the Guardsman of Alexandria, even the Tale of Ali of Cairo, which Arram had once heard from his father on the condition that he never repeat it in the presence of his mother. Arram wanted to stop and listen to every story, but he had to hurry to keep up with the caliph. “Tell me boy, do you like my city?” said the.