He could still taste her lips, feel the smoothness of her body, like an afterimage that lingered in his mind.But at the same time, his gut was twisted...with dread. Like a charging ox headed towards a cliff, he knew that he would soon plunge over the precipice. Conflict with his family was inevitable. There was a heat inside him now, rising up from his belly, a sort of reckless and urgent need to get it over with. Like amputating a gangrenous limb, it was better to do it fast, before the rot. "Who'sthat?" the person in the chair squeaked. "What else are you going to doto me?"Michael looked at the person in the chair and realized that he wasalmost looking at a mirror image of himself. He, too, was dressed as aFrench maid with stockings, high heels, make-up and hair extensions."I'm here to help," Michael whispered. "Let me untie you and take thatblindfold off." When he was finished untying and removing the blindfoldhe asked, "What's your name?" My name is Isabel," he whispered."No,. He leaned against the balcony’s rail, a cup of green tea in his right hand, not that it was actually green in colour. It was honestly more of a light yellow and its taste was refreshing after a meal of salad with some leftover roasted chicken. The yellow onions left a bit of a taste in his mouth, not that he was any fussy about that, but he knew that it would soon wash away. The chicken was juicy and even tastier than the day before when he’d marinate it with salt, pepper, oregano, lemon juice. Okay, it wasn’t just for him, but I’d never tell him that. The song ended, but we kept going. Her hand joined mine and we stroked his hard-on, kissing, caressing and groping one another. It was so odd to look down and see her caramel hand wrapped about his thick shaft, right over mine. It was outrageous. The eroticism of the moment consumed the last of my inhibitions and I gave myself over to it. Wiggling about frantically, I managed to get out of my shorts and panties, kicking them aside until.