. OH SONUVABITCH!" I'm sorry, Boss, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." It's okay ... Izzy ... it's okay ... no way around it ... have Dickie get us ... the fuck...out of here." You got it ... DICKIE, MOVE IT!" Wish you hadn't ... felt called upon ... to yell ... inside the car..." Sorry Boss." Angie, would you like me to run you by your apartment first? You know, 8312 Burlingame Lane, #351?" How do you know where I live?" Silly bitch, same way I know where you work, what bus you ride, what bars you hit on. But I had all those urges in me, to be dominated by him, while he didn't really strike me as the type who would be into that.On the other hand, my "relationship" to Samer was getting even more distant and somehow cold as well. I liked him. No, I loved him, but I wanted him to love himself so that he could maybe love me back as well. It just seemed like we were stuck in a closed circle of emotions all the time.So, after a week or so, I finally asked Hassan to go out with me for a cup of coffee. My owner isn’t afraid of leaving marks. Any cuts, bruises or welts can be healed and erased by the local corrupt clerics. Everyone’s out to make a couple of gold pieces. And that fat cleric who patches us up makes more each month than he can carry.I step through the curtains that separate the stairs from the main waiting room. Several men are waiting in the chairs; some too uncomfortable to look at anyone, some conversing freely with each other. Among them, I recognize a couple of regular. She looked at this as a sign of frightfulness. I have a weakness for red haired women and saw nothing but beauty. Seeing them up close causes my groin to stir; perhaps from memories of Autumn, an earlier red haired client. Marilyn was also a true red head.Barb gave her my phone number and told her to call me for an appointment. She told Marilyn that she had been coming to me for a couple of years now. “Pete takes care of all my aches and pains and I’m sure he could do the same for you.” A week.