She lifted it until it was pointing toward her mouth. She took a deep breath and leaned forward, opening her lips to let the fat, spongy knob slide ov...r her tongue.She gagged again but quickly stifled that natural instinct. I noticed that I wasn't the only one watching. Everyone was watching, waiting to see if she'd do what she was told or if she'd end up getting tortured again. I got the impression that I was the only one who was relieved that she seemed to have gotten herself under. "Well, you need to train this ability, that's obvious to me. Have you considered what you will do with this ability? And what is this 'road' you talk about. How does it matter to you anyway?" She finally asked."I am not sure. When I was very young, I lived in Scotland. I also have dreams that a rock told me to fly the road, and I did! Now there is a road here, and I don't know if it's the same one, or a different 'road, '" I said musingly."Ok, that's two things we need to do. One, discover what. And there’s sex – so much sex! And there’re d**gs – so many d**gs! And then there’s parties and money and cars and skiing and football and road trips and … and there’s even more, more, more and more sex. Mad Kiwi protopunk Louise in the back of my beat-up old Holden! Late-night concerts on acid and opium, drunken tantrums, stupid fights, Corinne! Rubenesque, Titian-haired, intellectual, brilliant writer (I did let her beat me at Scrabble once because I was such a gentleman! I had “query” on a. The scene had been hot enough that she’d had a hand down the front of her slacks, and she felt almost wet enough that Jerome wouldn’t tear her apart if she mounted him. But no. She could wait. Daddy would be home soon enough.She whistled a tune to herself as she walked out, poking at her phone, reviewing the pictures and videos she’d captured and saving them to an online archive. At some point, she would use them to turn events toward the right ending. Not yet, maybe not even soon, but.