"You alright?" She asked. I was still confused, and embarrassed, so I didn't meet her gaze, and blushed. "Whats' wrong?" She asked, concerned."I, err,...came." I still didn't meet her gaze; I looked at the mess on my crotch.She sounded surprised, "Oh. … Well, come up here and I'll lick it up." She does like my cum.I levered myself up onto the bed, still not looking at her, I pointed to the mess on the bed skirt, "I, err." I still wasn't sure what happened.Again, she just said, "Oh." But, she. "There are others that I can't show you here. And the worst bruises are on my mind, soul, whatever. She hated me. She hated that I was happy with George and did everything to make my life a misery. In the last month she has been beating me."Ms. Smith drew sharp breath. Even I was shocked. I knew full well about the emotional abuse, but Fran had kept the physical battering from me. No wonder she had been unwilling to undress in my presence. I wish she could have confided in me, but I understood. I walked to the window and stood there, bathed in the moonlight. It wasn’t really a window I found, but a pair of glass doors that opened onto a small garden. The grounds were that ghostly shade that the moon gives the earth, washed of all color. The mansion blocked a good deal of the city lights. For a few minutes, I watched the small trees blow in the breeze and let my mind empty. In the city, I was never alone. Even when I was home, the sounds of neighbors and passing traffic always. She wasn’t the waif. She wasn’t some athletic model type. Would he find her desirable? She just prayed he would. Her classes and friends at school had kept her busy enough that her thoughts had not been consumed by the kiss. She had been allowed reprieve during the day and was the better for it. The insecurity hadn’t worsened, so when she got to her apartment around four o’clock in the afternoon and there was a message on her voice mail from Jake, the heart pounding was accompanied by a.