He in turn, in English not much better than my French, introduced himself as Commissaire Mitterand of the Brussels City Watch.He informed me Pompidou ...ad been attacked an hour earlier; stabbed to death as he returned home from a night at the Paradise Regained.The murderer, a woman of the streets identified as Gertrude DuKypur, had since been apprehended. The reason for her frenzied attack was unknown, although witnesses reported her shouting something about a white lady before she butchered the. She didn't speak, so I took that as a sign of permission. I lowered myself down without breaking eye contact, and then I glanced at her pink cotton panties again.Although, only for a few seconds before I lowered them down to her feet. Then I just came back up with her and was about to speak, but she put the finger on my lips. She shook her head no and kissed me once again.As she did, I felt her fingers come onto my snatch, but I couldn't return the favor. I failed even to keep kissing her, so. I looked down and tried to think of something, anything to say to just be with her for another moment. No female ever affected me the way she had. But when I looked up, she was gone, like a puff of smoke. She had completely disappeared in the blink of an eye. I looked all around and couldn't see her anywhere. There were no large stones anywhere that could hide her, not even a tree or a small bush. But she was gone.In a daze, I finished my work the next day and put the tools away. Then I bagged. And so began the incessant fucking that would continue for a very long period of time in the future. Every day and every night that I spent with her would be a reminder of my submission to her and the way she fucked me raw, made me crave her touch, every single time. She grabbed my hair and pulled my head backward, and began thrusting deeper, deeper inside me. Each thrust felt like it penetrated deeper than the first and I felt I was stabbed by a burning sword inside of me. But the electricity.