Maybe that's just me. Maybe I'm the same kind of psycho sicko myself, like all those ones I see in my visions. One day I'll snap, go on a little spree...of my own ... naw, that thought's just too morbid.By the time I'm paying attention again, someone's pushing me to the ground. Large, firm hands. A man's hands. Familiar hands. Not to me, obviously, but to her. I know this routine. Usually its the umpteenth asshole boyfriend, but no - these aren't some dumbass teenager's hands, not even those of. ‘Item one will cover your appearance and general dress code. As you are coming to me for instruction in matters beyond your understanding, I expect you to dress appropriately. A young woman of your age who dresses as you’re dressed now is assumed to be well acquainted with the concepts you wish to learn. Since you’ve come to me and admitted ignorance of these matters, you will hence forth be treated as a schoolgirl and expected to dress as such. Your attire will be a white button down blouse,. Her hair color did seem artificial, but it was one that was carefully and artfully done, and worked well for her.I was delighted that even for daring office wear, the Gods of Fashion had decreed that hemlines could rise to the levels of 1970, when they had nowhere further to go. How shall I describe her legs? Where Jill and Gigi were smooth and taut, with muscles flexing underneath, Lucy’s most attractive legs did have defined muscles. That really doesn’t express the image. She had no excess. " I'm familiar with French Postmodern philosophy."Vic looked delighted.Sarah glanced at the text Vic had been reading. Sartre. "Being and Nothingness" in French."You understand that?" she asked Vic."It's difficult. Barthes is such a lovely read, a real pleasure. Sartre may be difficult, at least this particular massive tome, but at least he tries to make sense unlike Foucault who seems to try not to. It's great for vocabulary as well." Is existentialism relevant to the postmodern?"Vic chuckled..