SMACK. A little harder this time. With my free hand I can feel you getting wetter. SMACK. Your body is quivering, you are so close to the edge. SMACK....My strikes are slow and methodical. I don’t want to cause you real pain, but I want you to know who’s in charge. SMACK. I grab your hair, make you arch your back. SMACK. I hear you whimper ‘you’re so good to me baby.’ that makes me smile. I drop the belt and pull you straight up by the hair, your back to me, your robe flowing open. You and I. I could tell by theway she eyed me up and down, noticing details I thought I could getaway with, that others would glance over and not register. Mydelicate watch that would remain hidden under my oh so straight shirtsleeves, my pure silk socks hiding stockings underneath, my ladiescourt shoes that were so close to the edge and gave me a thrill whenpeople gave them a second glance. I knew she would do things to methat my wife hadn't even heard of. I knew I could trust her to fulfilmy fantasies. .. you kiss well," she replied, making an assessment, "nice butt, nice face... but with sad eyes... like a lost little puppy. You're skinny, I like that. Caring... talented... and a little shy." Shy? Me?" I protested."Yes, you almost pee'ed yourself when you asked me out." Only because I thought you might say no." Was it that important?" she said, suddenly serious, "aww look! You're blushing!" she resumed giggling."Nancy, you're a lovesong," I blurted out without thinking.She looked at me. She had been active for the last twelve months or so, and loved every part of it, with men and with the few girls who had sweet-talked her into their beds. But the one man she really wanted was not interested in her.Her mother would not talk about him, refused to let Jenny have anything to do with him. Jenny had ignored her and had kept in touch with Dad as best she could, a few letters, the odd text or email, a card on her birthday and at Christmas, but it was so limited, especially as Dad.