When she bent over to pull down the sheet, she felt his hands touch her hips. ‘My Lord…,’ she began to protest. ‘Quiet, girl.’ He ordered d...rkly. ‘Finish your work.’ His hand began to pull up her long skirt, exposing her bare legs. ‘But Sire, I am done.’ With her skirt around her waist and his hands caressing the firm globes of her ass, he said ‘I am not.’ She felt him move in closer, the soft leather of his pants brushing the backs of her legs and his hands quickly undoing the laces of her. Most certainly she did, mixing with other students who also, for the most part, had not fit in their high schools. What Suzanne had not anticipated was how self-centered most of her art classmates were. Suzanne quickly became sick of her peers who thought they were the next Van Gogh or the next Mapplethorpe, when it was obvious their talent was mediocre at best. If there was one thing Suzanne could not stand, it was a person on an ego trip. Suzanne’s first boyfriend in college gave her a rude. More

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