She was in control, sure of herself, feisty, my lover, my equal.It wasn't rocket science. But this much I had figured out: When she was bound, I was i... total control. She didn't even want a safe-word. She had had to explain what that was to me later. When she was free, we were equals. We both agreed we could live with that. Even better, I got to decide when she was bound and when she was free.She said she had things to take care of and got up. 'Life goes on, ' or something like that. I don't. Still, she had a glow of health on her cheeks and he had been told several times by her directly that she was a "widow" and that her dear departed Mickey was dearly missed. He already knew that her beloved spouse was a "weak link" Republican from Derry who had the unfortunate bad luck to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Fortunately, they had not had any offspring because that would certainly have added to her misfortune but she kept reasonably fit from the laborious work of maintaining. Brooke had two passions. The first was designing clothes, and it was this very thing that she convinced her father to let her stay out of college and work in their mansion. She even got a room on the ground floor that was only being used for storage anyway. Brooke called it her “Fashion Room” or sometimes her “Design Room” and she usually kept it locked at all times and she had the only key. This was because, though she told her Dad and Mom that she was designing dresses, and even kept a few. I found your eyes…. we looked at each other… into each other…. and smiled. And slowly your mouth came down on mine. We kissed… the kiss of all kisses…. like I’ve never been kissed before…. intense, passionate, meaningful…. making tiny goosebumps appear on my skin. Months of talking and longing poured into that kiss. I never wanted it to end. I couldn’t bear the thought of tearing my lips from yours. And all my doubts and fears dissolved with that kiss… this was right. We sat like that for what.