More cries. Protests of innocencethat only infuriated me more. Monika broke her stance andtumbled to the floor and I whipped her where she lay. Jasmin...tarted to break and run, though better of it, and dissolved ina tearful puddle at my feet. Finally, when my arm grew too tiredto continue and the cries of the women had died down to pitifulmoans. I stopped to catch my breath. Absent-mindedly, I reachedinto my back pocket for a handkerchief to mop my brow.And I found my keys!I won't go into the. It's almost twice as wide as a normal person, with big thick arms. I've taken many naps in this chair. Usually I'm sideways, with my head on one arm and my legs draped over the other.It will hold me there, like an old friend, supporting me in my sleep, never tiring, never shifting under my weight, not flinching when I drool on its arm.But this time sleep is nowhere in the plans.She is in front of me.Sitting on the floor.Her long legs are curled under her.Her long beautiful thighs are exposed by. More

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