"I don't think we’re going anywhere." Tara turned and headed to the door to look outside. Just as she opened it a huge gust of wind threw her backwa...ds. Her tiny frame was thrown as if she were nothing but a feather. She felt her head hit something hard. Instantly her world went black.* Her eyes flickered slowly open. The pain in her head was instant and years seemed to pass before she could focus her eyes. Her dainty fingers touched her freshly bandaged head. "Don't get up too fast." That. The danger is that jealousy, which is all tangled up with possessiveness, insecurity and fear, will add the wrong kind of fuel to the Sperm Wars fire, and all that fun fighting between sperm turns to real fighting between people. Even “retroactive jealousy” over past lovers or “fantasy jealousy” over future lovers or paranoid jealousy over imaginary lovers, might overwhelm a man to the point that the Sperm Wars going on within his balls only adds fuel to his rage and fear. The Sperms Wars. As we got to the top of the stairs, we shuffled onto the plane and waited for people to sort their bags out and take a seat. Again she stepped back and got my foot again. This time we laughed and joked it was becoming a habit. In the end we sat together although there was very little conversation. She took the window and I took the middle seat. No one sat in the aisle. She was quiet and reserved and sort of minding her own business. I on the other hand was checking her out at every opportunity. Oh well you are one of us now. Another outcast. But so as long as no one knows about the tattoos, and of course you will be careful not to show your mom Sara your new nipple rings, you can't really be an outcast. If the town knew the truth you will become one, for real, since everyone is going to see my name all over your body. Your best friends will stop hanging out with you. People will boycott your mom's shop, because her own son is officially the slave of some wealthy outcast gypsy girl..