'Alright, you need to step out here now!' Startled I said 'what are you talking about?' Than another voice, older and more authoritative spoke 'you he...rd us, get out here now!!!' I peeked out to see Carlton dwarfed by a man towering over him. I said 'let me get dressed.' At that time the older man reached through the curtain and jerked me out in my shirt and underwear. I looked at Carlton and asked 'didn't you tell him it was alright for me to be here.' The large guy spoke 'I'm going to have. ’ Netty told Rick ‘you can find him at Starbucks on Wednesday nights. Buy him a chai latte and tell him I sent you.” Rick was not sure what he expected but found a fit 20-something with a horn-rimmed glasses sitting behind a lap top. He never looked Rick in the eye. He just typed on his keyboard as Rick related his story. ‘It sounds like an emotional energy eruption,” Bradford told Rick matter of factly, almost bored. ‘Don’t worry it happens a lot with Type A’s who work a lot.’ Rick was. Normally a blonde cheerleader is always given the label as bitchy, high maintenance, slut. But I wasn’t like that. Well at least that was true up until now. I’m still not bitchy, or high maintenance but I don’t think I can no longer refer to myself as not slutty. But I’m getting ahead of myself, let’s start from the beginning. I live in a normal suburban plat, where every house around is basically the exact same with few if any differences. I’m an only child and I live with my mom and dad. Both. The red plaid skirt He bought me last week barely covers anything on my front end, and only covers half of my bum. The white midriff-baring t-shirt is tightly snug, showing my perky dark nips already awake in anticipation of what He might have in mind. On my bellybutton, a trinket, a gift from Him as a reminder of us, a pair of tiny handcuffs dangling there. Lastly, just a pair of white socks cover my feet. I know He does not particularly care for me to cover them as He loves to kiss my toes. A.