The wet sound of your fingers slipping between my folds adds to my pleasure. My dream shimmers, falters and fog surrounds us and I am lost; grounded ...nly by the press of your flesh to mine. The mist eddies and swirls, and I feel you leave me. Your last touch, the scrape of your fingernails across my hip. I spin, lost. Arms flung wide as I search for you. My clothes disappear and I am left standing alone. Abandoned. A throbbing mass of need and desire. Heavy fingers grip the back of my neck. Now, when I had 'entertain' someone, I knew what Father meant. He meant, 'show them what it is to be Kaiba.' And that, I didn't mind doing at all.I resigned myself to painting more Egyptians as Papa, Dad, Nobu and I went to the ballroom and wandered around; mostly looking at the people looking at the art. There were a lot of people around the picture of Aunt Cyndia and Uncle Maximillion - I'd done them as Antony and Cleopatra. Uncle Noah and Aunt Vivian were actually standing next to their. More

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