The surface had things on it. Things with writing, what looked like boxes.Chris's eyes flicked up. Ah. It wasn't a ceiling. It was a wall.Chris lay in...a darkish hospital room. His head, and upper body, were raised up. Not much, but enough to confuse assumptions made over countless previous nights. His eyes closed again.Whatever.What had happened was still a bit confusing, at least in his current state. Some sort of an attack. A call to his sister. No, wait. A stagger to the door after dressing. She is a renowned international fashionmodel. We had better look our very best. Every man, woman and sissy at theball will want to have her. Despite her fame, beauty and brains - shegraduated 'summa' from Harvard at eighteen, she's as sweet a girl as Ihave ever met! Look at her pitching in to help!"We finished creaming our faces, titties and bodies, wrapped towels aboutour bodies and our hair and proceeded into the salon. Thankfully, Electraand her prot?g? had departed. Anna was trying to comb. More

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