I can't do that, I love her."Ethan scoffed, "Love, do you hear that?" He turned to Batista, "Love?" Batista showed no response, nor did Collins. "Ther... is no such thing as love," Ethan said with disdain."Maybe not in your world," Jordan mused, "But in mine there is."Ethan shook his head. "You were always quite fond of the whores," Ethan rolled his eyes. "We argued over one of them in particular before you left, do you remember? What was her name?" We argued over more than one of them."Ethan. I was semi pissed off, but when I saw the slight grin on her face I said, "Dee...you heard what Frank asked me. If you want to fuck him it's up to you." She walked over to me. Her nipples were very hard and she looked nervous. She whispered, "I would never do this Peter. It's just a fantasy." Her eyes darted to over where Frank was watching the negotiation.I asked her one question. "Is your cunt wet?" She turned red and nodded her head. That led to the next question. "Are you thinking. She felt his foot on her lower calf and was surprised to feel that he had kicked his shoe off and the soft feel of his stockinged foot mixed with the potency of the white wine had her tingling all over. In her mind she had Brian, her twelve year old son between her legs, her short dress shucked up under her arse as she spread her legs wide and pulled his face into her cunt. She was instantly shocked that this thought had come into her head. She shook her head quickly to rid her mind of such. Reading up on the Internet, the diagnosis is clear as the day. I even got an opinion from a second psychologist, who quickly narrowed in on it after ten minutes of talking. If it were your garden variety of depression and anxiety, I could have supported her, even had known the pass through that labyrinth. Yet, in her case, all the literature said for loving bystanders to not even attempt to help them as it would be counterproductive. I had initiated hours of conversation about healthy.