During my time at college, one of my fellow students was a South African hunk called Samson Djubuthi. When I tell you he was six foot two, and handsom..., with a commanding air (he was, in fact, a real Zulu prince, eldest son of his tribe’s chief), you won’t be surprised to hear that he caused quite a few panties to get moist (including mine). I remember especially the time he came to a Halloween party in his traditional tribal outfit. It was strangely chorus-girl like, with fluffy shin guards. She took a gulp of coke, broke off a big piece of chocolate, and opened the book. As she read, she thought of the year she’d spent with Sophie. She’d very much enjoyed it, with Sophie treating her like her best friend rather than a genie servant. Well, her best friend who lived with her. She went to school with her, they told each-other all their secrets, and had hot lesbian sex with each-other. All the standard stuff.Alexis was well through the book and her snacks when she felt the familiar. "Pretty much," said Mandy. "Your wife handled most of the importantpaperwork, but we need your consent because normally girls her age havethis stuff done already. It's no big deal, and just takes a second. Iwas a late bloomer too when I was her age, so I understand the nervesbut we do this stuff all the time here." Oh, I'm glad you girls understand," said James, handing her theclipboard and taking out his phone."They're cool with it Justine. Go ahead," said Mandy, nodding over tothe hair. "'Sir'?" I queried, a little hurt.Cassandra's fingers froze, and her face went blank for a moment. In addition to keeping her "personal assistant" title, she was keeping most of the job functions as well. Despite my suggestions that she let go of those responsibilities, especially in the wake of what happened in Marseille, she insisted that running my household and managing my business affairs were things that she truly enjoyed. And after a couple of weeks just relaxing, screwing, and traveling.