"Bullshit," she replied calmly and matter-of-factly, not changing her expression in the least. "I know you want me to be happy, but I also know that's...not all you want. In fact, I'd be very unhappy with you if it was. C'mon Chike," she coaxed, running her fingers through my hair as well, "you know you want me to do things, and you want to do things to me. So do them. Let your slave please you."I bent down and kissed her lips softly. If she wanted this master and slave arrangement, I was game. I. She wasn't a virgin, not by any means, but had never enjoyed sex enough to want to seek it out.Although she was only 25, she had been getting more and more tired, and had not felt well for months.After shopping around for many doctors who didn't think there was anything wrong with her, the final diagnosis of breast cancer hadn't actually surprised her very much.She had cried on and off for a few days after finding out, and again when they discovered secondary tumours on her spine. The cancer. ” He smiled reassuringly at her.Perhaps the two glasses of wine had given Ginnie some Dutch courage, but her short speech graciously thanked the FDJ for the welcome and introduction to East Germany and earned her some polite applause.Back in the minivan, Ginnie turned to me. “You’re right, Will. I can do more than I think.”I wondered how much of this nascent self-confidence was the wine talking.It turned out that perhaps some was due to the wine, but not all: the following day Ginnie spoke. I’m just going to unpack my PJs and go have my hot bath.”“Give me a shout when you’re done, hon, so I can have a quick shower.”“Oh, you could shower in our ensuite, Jeff, then you could both come down for some soup together. I’ve popped the rolls in the oven to warm while you are up here. Any preference for soup flavours?”“You’re a mind reader, Mum, I was just telling Junior that I fancied some soup. Tomato, for me, Mum, if you have it. Oh, and you can call Jeff, Junior, if you like, I think I.