It was too fucking crazy to be real. Shit like that doesn't happen.But the memories were sharp and vivid, and as she studied her naked body in the mir...or, she noticed a few marks on her wrists and ankles, as if something like rope had been wrapped around them. She rubbed one of her wrists gently, feeling the strange marks left behind, and her eyes drifted to the spot in her bedroom where the purple flower had originally rested. There was still soil and shards of clay scattered over the floor,. We were sometimes rewarded with a glimpse of stocking top. (All women wore stockings in those days.) Julie was a married lady, probably in her mid to late thirties. I can’t remember her husband’s name but he was away a lot of the time. I think he was a long-distance lorry driver or something. The day in question was a Saturday. The other guys had all gone away for the weekend and hubby was not around. Julie and I had a leisurely breakfast together. We chatted about college and I told her I was. More

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