Looking up at him, she tried to gauge his face as he seemed to become Brooks again. "Are you sure? I can put out the candles and the sage..." she offe...ed."It's okay," he insisted. "Came to DC from where?" He wanted to be Jet before he had to be Brooks again. "You're not native? I've been here since..." he trailed off. "Lot of years. Grew up in Pennsylvania." Unlike Brooks who had grown up in London, Paris, summered in the French Riviera and skied Aspen and the Alps interchangeably.He knew he. The tiny triangle of material pointing like an arrow to the mound between her legs, as the lace disappeared around her back. Her thighs and legs bare, her gentle tan accentuating the whiteness of her panties. “Oh wow” I heard myself mumble.She was pointing at her panties, “Look, they barely fit, and look there is nothing covering my ass.” She turned looking over her shoulder and turning her ass to me. The lace panties were just a thong, totally different from her usual choice. She slapped her. He looked up into it’s cold dead looking eyes in resignation. It wouldn’t be long now, he knew that, as he watched it raise it’s fist one last time to smack him down and make sure he never escaped again.The fist started to fall, and he flinched away, knowing it would hurt one last time. But the blow never fell. After a second he looked up to see a young knight in armor with a number 47 on the back holding the fist away.“Hey buddy, mind if I sit here?”“Uh, sure if you want too,” he answered.He. "Yer just a wee bit nervous," she told her and Abigail didn't respond.It was the culmination of her efforts, and while her peers were either going into employment or University she longed to be going to "drama school" - an International academy of arts to study acting. Abigail loved acting, and was very good at it, but the audition she gave today could either be the beginning or the end of her dreams.An officious woman strode through the door and bellowed into the room, "Abigail Kennedy.