The groan just emerged from my throat without any conscious thought.According to my email software, there were now 478 new messages in my in-box. And ...ore were still coming.Just then, the phone rang. Instinctively I picked it up, without bothering to check out the caller ID."Hey, bitch, I can come over and take care of that itch of yours. When I shove my nine inches down your throat..." came a strange masculine voice.I slammed down the phone, and my hand came off the handset like it was burning. Only a transparent nightie that, even in the faint light of the bedside lamp, reveals the majority of my curves rather unmistakably. Oh well, I figured, no sense in trickiness now. What worse could happen? At most, Darren would simply turn around and escape this rendezvous.As I’m trembling with excitement, I open the door after much fumbling with the chain and peek out."Darren?" I ask as I gaze with curiosity at the dark shape just outside the door."Becky? Definitely, it's me."I open the door. I came to my senses and walked back into the living room. The video was stillplaying. I looked intently into her eyes. No words were spoken. She knew mydesires."Want some?" she indifferently asked.There were four slices left in the third, and final, box. It was not pizza Iwanted."NNNoo, III’mm really not hungry. Shouldn’t you be getting back?" This wasonly a formality. I thought it should be mentioned. "You want me to leave?"She read my mind, "No... No!" Well let’s put on some music!" she. “Is it true that Queen Yara Greyjoy of the Iron Islands wears nothing below the waist?” Lord Robett Glover asked, having just entered the tent.“Hence her epithet, yes. I can attest that she is truly ... bottomless, as is claimed. It’s odd, but then she’s most often on the deck of a ship. One seldom needs skirts or trousers for that. At least if one has no hard labor to do, that is. She likes to stand on the deck in nothing but her mailshirt and boots, salt air creeping into her nether parts, I.
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