She seemed to find me a bit less of a joke than she had in college."What did I do to you?" she finally asked.I didn't know if I wanted to tell her yet... For some reason it seemed like the less she knew about me the better. I avoided the question and instead of answering her I said, "I guess it's safe to assume that you're accepting my offer to serve as my sex slave until your husband returns from Iraq. You have already had a small but representative sampling of the kinds of activities you will. " But..." he offers."It's wrong..." But..." he repeats."I hate how I feel right now," I confide."Hate?" he looks surprised. "But you dressed yourself and let Mr. Owensdress you too?" Yeah," I agree.I don't get it. I don't want to explain. I just want to be normal. Thisisn't normal."I shouldn't like it," I finally tell him."But you do?" he offers.I look at him for a moment. I can trust him. Maybe he can help. Maybe heunderstands."I'm really turned on when I wear this shit. A lot," I. More

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