“A baseball fan huh?” she said.As much as her looks had gotten to me, the voice was better. It was smokey and scratchy at the same time. The tone ...as like honey and there was so much emotion in that voice.I wondered why the hell she showed no signs of being afraid. As I looked at her all I could read in her face was concern for me and ... Anger.It was almost as if she’d been...“Waitin’ for yuh?” she asked, reading my thoughts. “Ah was.”“Why?” I asked. “Why did you... ?”“Bust that whorish bitch. Even ashe nodded and made exceptionally sympathetic grunting noises in all the appropriate places, I felt that his concentration was elsewhere.Now I swear to you that it was nothing I did but rather the fault ofsome unknown magic or chemistry or fate or perhaps demons of the air,and I blush even now to write it, but I saw that the buds on my bosomhad begun to swell.Much like the rose buds of early June to which the casual gardener isat first oblivious, they had grown at an imperceptible rate. As he pushed through the crowd, tears streamed down his face. This was his fault. He said nothing. Did she do this because of him? No, he couldn't be blamed for- he finally saw her. No. It. His cock throbbed against his jeans and he bent over to wretch. When he could breathe again he looked up and saw its tongue, which had spoken to him only minutes before, had finally writhed free from that last thread and somehow had the energy left in the muscle to curl one last time on the pavement before. " Very good," nodded Mrs Russell. "As Roberta and Lewis are conducting, itgives me a better opportunity to listen to individual players andsingers. Both schools didn't gel well at the first practice, but you haveall been getting better. All I ask is you be considerate, just like thestring players at Hayfield were when we did the Mozart at the lastconcert." That was very strange, playing so closely with other people. I supposethese are just skills we will learn with practice." And learn you.