.. and whatever he’s doing?”Cynthia paused, but Buttercup kept her council to herself.Putting aside her worries, she went downstairs to the kitche... to make herself lunch. She loved the kitchen. She spent countless hours there helping her father cook. Cynthia liked just doing things and figuring it out as she went, but Finn forced her to slow down and concentrate on the process. She’d learned proper knife skills, how to convert measurements, safety precautions and how to balance flavors.She made. His wrists strapped down, spread far from his body. His ankles, still in those boots I find so irresistible, spread equally, locked down.A tight black t-shirt. Black jeans. A belt -- hanging open a little, the buckle silver.And a tight black velvet blindfold.His eyes protested when I brought it out. But I said, softly, "All you need is your mouth."And he nodded. Swallowed. Closed those innocent eyes.And was gone.****Spikey little bangs hanging over black velvet. I paced, watching his body. More

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