Uhhh... uhhh... uhhh... uhhh... YES!" As Bridget exclaimed her approval, she threw her head back, her hair flipping backwards. Her eyes locked with Al...ie's; that's when the teenaged voyeur realized she'd some how unsnapped her jeans and thrust a hand down her pants. Her panties were soaked completely through. Her other hand was under her shirt pawing at the breast she'd pulled from the bra cup. Bridget smiled, licked her lips and winked. She placed a hand under her boob and lifted it, as though. Mozartfocused it on that stupid Constanza who was no more than my tool and my toy. Itwas probably because he was thinking of his vacuous blond wife when he wrotemusic for the concubine's part. And the poor Austrian composer sadlyunderestimated Blonde the serving girl who had ten times the brains and courageof her mistress. However, I didn't and Blonde still serves me. But remember,my son became the next Pasha and that is what counts. Constanza , inthe end, provided me with nothing more than. ..well...she kicked me out for the night. Said it would do me good to see how life is without her." "That’s terrible." "Yeah, umm, I kinda need a place to sleep tonight." She asked in a tone so soft it sounded like a whimper. How could I say no? She wanted to stay in my house for the night. The girl I lusted after. "Sure you can stay here… I guess." "OH MY GOD, THANK YOU! You have no idea how much this means to me." "It’s no problem; just don't ring my buzzer when you get here. I'll come. The year I turned 18 was the first time Daddy called me by her name. I was standing at the sink with my back to him when he said, "Mia, could you get me a glass of water baby?"I turned around so quickly I dropped the dish I was cleaning. As the plate s**ttered its broken pieces on the floor Daddy gasped realizing his mistake. "Oh Angela, I'm so sorry," he said blushing bright red. "You just look so much like your mother."What can you do when stuff like that happens? Not much really. I was even.