‘I’m not your Mistress, anymore,’ she added as she resumed her packing. ‘Please! Ben, Honey, don’t leave me!’ Stacey cried out as tears fl...wed down her face as she cried unchecked, her legs and arms still bound to the bed. ‘We’re done. I obviously don’t mean anything more to you than just a piece of ass on the side,’ Benita said curtly as she shot Stacey a hurt expression. ‘That’s not fair!’ Stacey shot back in a hurtful cry, still sobbing. ‘No, it’s not,’ Benita said still snatching up the. Khalar kaner dul boro, golay manansoi necklace. Dujoner chul-e sere rakha. Ami shirt-pant-er sathe shue pore asi. Sharadiner jonno cab vara kore tate uthe boslam, majhkhane ami r dan pase ma, bam pase choto bou. Shohore boro ekti shopping mall er samne gari rakhlam. Amra sobay gari theke berie aslam. Manusher chahoni dekhey bujhlam amar bou duto koto sundor r sexy. Tader boro boro kora chokh bole disse erokom juboti duti narir jonno tader kemon hahakar korse.Ma bolesilo baire jeno amra sobsomoy. . should'a brought's my shovel."A strange looking fellow wandered around the ruined room. A six foot three African, not African-American, African, is not too strange but when added in that he was dressed in an orange pair of sweat pants with small holes scattered about, an old yellow Hawaiian shirt, the real kind not the fake, and flip flops, the full image becomes clear. His head was shaved, and he had a four leaf clover scared on his forehead, no one knows the origin of it. He paced aimlessly. My slip dress was soaked through and through and my dark nipples probably peeked through the sheer dress. Suddenly, the fountain water dropped to the bottom as the fountain began a new cycle. I stood there in the open with my hand under the front of my dress. The hem was lifted up, but only the front section; the retreating water brought the rest of the slip dress down to just above my knees. Looking down, I could see the outline of my white garter belt, panties and darkened stocking tops.