It was a collar, similar to the kind Leanne had bought months ago in the hope that her girlfriend would use it on her, before they had split up.Before...Leanne had time to take in how quickly it was happening, the butch woman padlocked the collar around her neck and attached a leash to its front D-ring. At the end of its metal chain, a thick latex handle dangled idly in front of her labia."Open," ordered the woman before holding the next item, a gag, up to Leanne's mouth. It was the head harness. ‘Not today. If I don’t get home on time my wife will fuck with me.’ ‘Don’t worry, I’d catch you and if you did fall, go bump, I’d take care of your wife.’ The man twanged. ‘Hell, boy, you’re too big for me to catch, and besides you don’t know my bitching wife.’ ‘I like tough women, but not Pro wrestlers.’ ‘How did you know that’s what she does? The fare couldn’t see Henry’s shit eating grin. Henry knew the asshole had smiled. The rube had forgotten that Henry had picked up Mr. Slick Saturday. " Really? Who was he?" Rather not say, not right now." Oh, ok. What did U do?" We kissed and I let him feel me up." Like it?" Yup! Still do."I wondered if the things the girl was saying were true. It's easy to lie on the Internet, no one can see you. I'd heard the stories about men acting like they were younger and arranging to meet younger girls from the paper. Mom always warned me not to give anyone too much information when I was chatting."Same guy? Is he your bf?" No, he's not my bf, but I. Things like clothes, movies and music. Of course when it came to music they just couldn't stay on the same page, Caroline could only talk about the Beatles and the rest of the groups that were springing up on the back of the 'fab fours' extraordinary popularity while the closest her mother could get to popular music was Cliff Richard and the Shadows. Her preference, she knew, was for the English traditional jazz artists like Acker Bilk, Kenny Ball and Chris Barber and American blues legends.