We got ourselves put back together as the uniformed chauffeur opened our doors. We walked into a grand entrance room. There are marble floors, tables ...ith elaborate flower arrangements and the discrete front desk. The walls were lined with paintings of famous members. There were several corridors off of the entryway that led to sumptuous suites reserved for distinguished guests. We were all a little awestruck. We looked around like country rubes. The doors to the grand ballroom were open. We. Stone's diarrhea was brutal. I felt shell-shocked, and was convinced the shit inside me was eating away at my brain. It's as if I'm turning into a real toilet, losing my humanity one shit at a time. I had no dignity left. I entered this club with the hope of seeing my ex-girlfriend Lauren. But the reality is inescapable, the only human connection I can expect is having my lips wrapped around an asshole. The telltale clicking of high heeled shoes grew as my stall door opened. The woman who. The girl was recently graduated with a follow-up degree in English Literature and he noticed she allowed her gaze to fall below his belt on several occasions. It was obvious to him that she was in dire need of male interference and was not quite sure about how to go about it. When he went up to the pastries table to get a sweet, he "accidently" allowed his semi-aroused member to brush across her tight and revealing skirt just hard enough to insure she knew exactly which part of his anatomy was. " You were down in Virginia learning smithin' when your owner went broke," Seth said, trying to find a less painful way to sit."Yes, yes. Old Curtis, he was resident slave-smith when I got there; he had a 'prentice, too, but I cain't 'call his name." Jefferson made a scratching sound by rubbing his chin in thought. "Nope, well, I ast around an' heard tell a'slaves buyin' their own freedom. So I came on the idear a'smithin'. Did I tell you all this?"Seth shook his head and got more comfortable..