I mentioned that I worked at the newspaper. That’s how she knew how to get in touch. She called me the following week. “I’m having a painting p...rty at my new house and I want you to come,” she said. Audrey was a loud talker. “Sounds like fun,” I replied, thinking it would definitely be not. “I’ll have pizza and beer and other stuff,” she said. Then in a soft voice, almost a murmur, she said, “I’d really like to see you again.” My warped male brain took that as a coy reference to “other. It was a delicacy that, being slave to his mistress, only he waschosen to appreciate. The fact that his mistress, when given to bouts ofsexual need or hunger could indulge in the semen herself, was irrelevant.At least, it had to be if he was going to have any chance of retaininghis sanity. He had nothing else in his life now. So few things he couldretain control or pleasure over. He had the memories of his former life,his futon, and his desire for his mistress' decadent jism. Beforeswallowing. More

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