She was not happy about that.There were times however when she would arrive on a train or 2 ahead of her husband on the evening commute and wait for h...m in their car at the commuter parking lot where I parked my car also.On one of these occasions as Rose and I were getting off the train in the evening I tried speaking with her and we walked to the parking lot together,as we approached I asked Rose if she wanted to sit in my car with me for a few minutes while she waited for her husband to. Flitting her tongue she began to lick the backside of his perineum to his virgin pink asshole. Her right hand reached underneath and secured his cock while her left hand moved to her mouth for lubrication. Slipping her thumb in his ass her mouth went to work sucking gently on his balls. “Let’s play farmer baby” she said her mouth pausing from lightly sucking and tonguing his swollen sack “I’m the farmer, you’re the bull. I have to milk this semen from you.” Her mouth moved back to it’s place as. "Who is she?" "Who knows? Just some whore, I guess."I hadn't been on the streets long, just plenty long enough to hear talk about this girl who was beaten, that girl who was knifed, such-and-such a girl who OD'd. After a few minutes of silence, the conversation would just drift away to other topics. It didn't seem to matter much.The idea that I, Betsy Powell, would be reduced to an anonymous statistic finally shook me out of the fear that had frozen me in place, and I turned and headed back. But he looked critically at all of the student theses and to everyone’s astonishment, most of all mine, he singled out my work for attention from all of them.You could cut their envy and hatred of me with a sword. He analyzed and praised my work in front of them offering some critical observations. Then he, the National Treasure, directed me to join his studio in the spring as his intern.So, it seemed to naturally follow that he would ask me to come see him and his new work right away. He never.