There was usually a dark leather chair involved, in a wood-paneled 'den.' Forty-five was old.These days, thank God, men my age feel like they're just ...etting started. Or maybe not. There's always those lingering thoughts of a misspent youth, opportunities missed, beautiful girls not kissed. I think about that last one a lot. I never really did sow my wild oats, as they used to say in those old movies. The dictionary describes it thusly:Sow one's (wild) oats: to have many sexual relationships. Besides, I found another way to get money and find another Master. There is a slave auction at this club Marcus told me about. I can go and auction my services off.” Cass told her friend.“Cass, I’m telling you, you don’t have to do this. You have money, and Eric would take you back in a heartbeat.” Liz pleaded.Cass turned to her friend. She cupped her face and leaned in to kiss her. “I know you mean well Liz, but I have to do this on my own. I can’t share my Master with someone else. It hurts. More

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