"Randy, I don't think it would be a good idea for me to be doing something like that. You are my brother, after all!" It's all right, sis, you have a ...ifferent father and I have a different mom so we are not real blood-related brother and sister. We just happen to live together and we each have a parent who fucks the other."I thought about that for a moment and realized he did make a lot of sense."What exactly do you want me to do?"My "brother" Randy walked over to my bedroom door and locked. Actually, he’d been working on it for as long as I can remember. My other friend Chris was a film student. He was the only guy I knew who didn’t have a car, but he spent all his money on a Bolex H-16 movie camera. I think he had dreams of becoming a big time Hollywood director or something. All I knew is he was going to film school out in Philly. As we sat around getting drunker by the hour, the conversation turned to events in the news. On the table was the July 7, 1967 issue of Time. In centuries past, the late Count’s ancestors had used the room that was now Helena’s study and personal office as a war room to scheme against their neighbors. Located in the center of the castle, it had thick stone walls that blocked out all outside noise, a secret passage to her bedroom, and an escape tunnel out of the castle. When she’d walk the halls in the early days of her marriage while her late husband was ruling San Finzione and she needed a break from sitting and observing the things. Emma gasped, and felt the tears run down her face. She was surprised she was crying after just 5 strokes but the proof was there as the tears ran past her open mouth. Miss Bentner made a definite decision about the sixth stroke. She aimed for the sit spot. Her aim was good. Very good. She buried the cane in to the soft flesh. Emma’s face crumpled as the pain spread like a tidal wave right across her bottom. She shrieked. Her mouth wide open. The result of the pain clear to Miss Bentner. Outside.