‘Read and sign this, if you agree, we can start.’ Start what? The writing on the sheet of paper answered my question. ‘I, Isabelle Chan, am will...ng to be Brad O’Donnell’s sexual slave. ‘ I looked up at Brad and frowned ‘Sexual slave?’ ‘Yup, sexual slave, if you trust me though, this is all a game of trust.’ He stared at me. ‘Well…’ I skimmed through the rest of the text which contained ‘rules’ such as ‘I shall put my own safe and health at risk and at any moment when I feel unable I shall. “Damn, sis, you mean I did all that for nothing?” he said querulously. “I mean, I could have gone to jail over the Tremaine business!”In fact it was pretty much for nothing; Hugo hasn’t had to show his ID once since he’s had it. But the sense of ease it’s given me has been huge, I would have had my heart in my mouth any time we’d gone anywhere. And maybe in an odd way it helped bring Irving into the fold. I focused on these things to calm Danny down, and after a while he did and said he was. As yet little was observable from the outside. His smile may have been a little wider and looser and his giggling perhaps slightly louder. Peter The drunker I got the brighter and louder they got. Smells increased, too. This would have been unbearable if I had been with people that I didn’t like. Note to self, don’t get drunk among strangers. Now, it was kind of pleasant to be inundated in the presence of my friends, the chords loud like I was on a rock concert blown away by massive sound. But. This lack-of-planning tormented me. I didn't know where it was going, and didn't want the story to crash and burn under self-contradictions or repetition. So that's why I thought of it as not a story, but a sketchbook. I'm just trying out ideas here folks, and trying halfheartedly to put them together into a cohesive fashion. But I knew from the start that this was not the way to write. I had no plans, no overreaching arc, no theme, and no direction. And it really bothered me that I didn't plan.