Collapsing back onto the foot of the bed crosswise, I yawned and reached between my legs to give the boys a comfortable scratch, the protruding, uncut...tip of my typical morning hard-on grazing against my palm. I glanced up at the pristine lemon yellow pillow beside my rumpled one. “Fuck. Two more days until Marie’s back from Montreal with that French club thing,” I muttered at the wall. A yawn and sidelong stretch dropped my right hand into the open clothes’ hamper. A. ..After falling asleep almost the instant that my head touched the pillow, the most strange things happened. In a room that I had barely entered in this new home, a woman dressed in clothes of a bye-gone age called to me by the name of Thomas and instructed me to assist her in what she termed her boudoir.There, the woman appeared annoyed that I didn’t know the procedure that she demanded. That she spoke words with which I not familiar made it difficult for me to comprehend her demands, but from. More

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