When he had bought her this “costume”, she had blushed and thought she would look awful, a gross caricature of femininity. Looking at herself now,...she realized how far she’d come in so short a time …she liked looking so sexy and trashy. She liked the humiliation of it, the degradation of declaring herself purchasable. The ancient and basic equation never failed to work: what a man can buy he can also own …a whore is a woman for sale, objectified, low and filthy … a man has an ultimate freedom. During the movie there was an erotic scene where the man had the actress up against the wall and was ramming the hell out of her. I noticed that Savannah’s grip tightened on my hand, out of the corner of my eye I could tell that she had her hand down her skirt and was rubbing on herself. I decided not to make a mention of it right then and there. We left the theater about a half hour later, discussing the movie. ‘That movie was really great.’ Savannah said. ‘I’m glad I went to see it. Very. She knew I would be game, but the other guy was the question mark. She tried painting a better picture for him. ‘You can take turns on me and DP me. Please’ I don’t think he was ever going to say no, but he finally gave his approval and she walked to her bedroom, wiggling out of her skirt as she went. She left her heels on. She laid on her back on her bed and spread her legs all the way. She pulled her tiny panties to the side revealing a perfectly shaved pussy. She gave her clit a little. The music from the computer played a beautiful Tango, just barely audible, but she knew the song so well and she loved allowing her body to sway to the music. Placing the last book in its rightful station she let her hands roam over her full breasts, at the age of forty three her own touch could still bring a surge of passion to her. This spring would be her twentieth anniversary at the library. Except for Sundays, this was her life. She considered herself a plain looking women and believed.