”“Thanks,” Melody replied. “I messed up and I’m sorry.”“You’re forgiven. Just play it cool, though. Did you at least ensure he can’t...fill the auditorium with his people?”“That was one concession I wouldn’t give. He only gets 10% of the tickets. The rest are for students on campus. I wouldn’t budge on that one because it was obvious what he was trying to do.”“What other conditions?”“No liturgical clothing.”I laughed, “Perfect. He can’t wear a business suit.”“What?”“That’s his liturgical. You were a project and I no longer have a use for you.”His final declaration crushed me. I started to weep. What a pathetic sight — dressed like a cheap whore, makeup smeared over my face, crying at the feet of my older lover as I pawed at his cock, hoping he might change his mind.He didn't and I left his house in a disastrous state, driving home as quickly as I could and then crying in my bed until I slept.I woke the next morning, feeling as distraught as the night before. But I tried to look. More

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