Sarini hung her head, defeated and loving it, and her voice raged. “Give it to me. I’m ready, Mitch. I can take it.” “Slut tal... me. That usually does it, Sarini. Make me come.” “Oh yes, give me your load.” She ground back against me trying to get me to come. She rolled her shoulders and gave me the whole slut show. “I want it. Please. I want it. I’m your whore aren’t I? I told you I would be! I’m your whore!” Sarini began. When I got back to the lab on May 3rd, I found a heavily engraved envelope: it was a formal invitation to Laura’s wedding, to ... one of the princes of Liechtenstein! Well, I suppose that was what she wanted ... she couldn’t manage a Grimaldi. I would send my “regrets,” of course. I thought about my crazy weekend last year. Was I Laura’s frolic among her inferiors? Her bit of rough?I was invited to give a paper in Adelaide, at the South Australia Museum, and dug into my (old) notes from my trip. More

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