We had little to do except sleep and talk. Master would read to me, which I enjoyed because I'd never been much of a girl for books and it was strange...to find that I enjoyed the stories Master would read each afternoon. I especially found Hemingway to be stimulating for some reason, listening with rapt attention while I imagined the scenes and characters in 'For Whom the Bell Tolls' and while I didn't really understand the story, I understood well enough the feelings behind it and I would cry. She laythere, heaving convulsively in the dying throes of hersudden climax, afraid to look up for fear that Arnieand Flo had heard her gasping moan and would betowering over her.She opened her eyes slowly — cautiously — but Arnieand Flo were still on the bed, Arnie’s hips buckingsavagely as he neared his climax. Still fascinated, shewatched a second longer, and saw Arnie’s buttocksquiver visibly, then an oozing cascade of whitestickiness spurted from his swollen,. More

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