I was the standard of what an American female should be: 5’6, blonde hair, blue eyes, and slim. Although, my bust was smaller than my backside I had...learned to work with what I had. I heard a knock on the door as I was just reaching for the hair straightener. “Shit," I sighed. It was only six o’clock and I was standing in my short black silk bathrobe. They were going to have to deal with my less than dressed appearance. I ran to the door and popped the locks. I opened the door to my much. I don’t know if transcribing this for your eyes is an act of betrayal, celebration or simply self-indulgence, but it’s therapeutic for me, I suppose. And I want to record this while I still can – the paper in Lori’s original letter is yellowing and her curly cursive fading. To help set the scene, know that Lori was a virgin when we met. A brilliant math and science geek, she had no sexual experience whatsoever. But she was a quick and eager study, and she explored her sensuality with the same. More

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