Oxford in England, Edinburgh in Scotland, then there were Princeton and Harvard here. It took me months to come to a verdict and I finally chose Queen... in Canada. Why? Because I thought it’d be fun to live on my own for a while, that and the fact that post-secondary education cost far less in Canada than here in the United States, even with the scholarships. But then it arrived, a letter with a wax seal like something out of the medieval age. The seal was in the shape of a red sun. No address. He stares at my naked body, letting his eyes roam over my breasts, my narrow hips, and the freshly shaved space between my thighs. The moment stretches and I wonder if he will refuse. I remain still, waiting. Finally, he breaks the silence. “Turn around.” His voice is husky. Wordlessly, I do as I am told. I feel the tip of the leather against my neck, still warm from his body. He runs it down my spine, gently, leaving a tingling trail of anticipation down to my lower back, where he suddenly. More

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