"Why don't you come home with me tonight, we can havedinner and talk about why you're here in Compton." She took my hand andclosed the door behind her... The walk to her house was short, just a fewblocks.Her house was big, bigger than any I had ever seen before, except ontelevision. It was painted a light gray with white trim around thewindows with a large porch surrounding the house. The walk was linedwith trees that towered over them, the seven steps to the front doordamp from the brief. The intense heat that accompanied the steam made Eve drip.In front of an empty bench, the blyad had told her to lay face down. The bitch pinched her and told her,“Now, my naughty brat, I am going to thrash you!”Almost immediately, Eve had felt the feathery, burning blows of the platza, the branches of oak leaves used in the Russian tradition, rhythmically cutting into her. The old woman had been vigorous and ruthless. She had drawn blood and licked the skin of her guest.The bitch turned her. More

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