It goes. But never arrives. She thinks, she tells me, that I --my former me -- am gradually dissolving before everyone else's eyes, thatI -- the me I ...m to be -- am gradually resolving into focus. Saturdays, meanwhile, are for waking in my bed, alone. Alone. Alone.Saturdays are for wondering about the Friday that has yet to happen. AndSundays -- oh, this time of year, Sundays are meant for fog seeping itsdrizzling rain, days to wonder if the dim chill of isolation will evercome to an end. To. Oh. Nipple clamps."I'll pass," I said.She laughed, and put the nipple clamps back in their hiding place."Have you figured out how to - you know - pleasure the female body yet?"She asked me."Not yet." Let's play the tutorial level, then," Beth said. "I'm sorry, was thatsexy, or just cheesy? Because I really don't have any experience with'sexy.'" It's working for me," I said."Take off your panties, Loren."I certainly didn't need to be told twice! I tried to seductively drop myshorts and my. More

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