I had to do something to keep her there. No one around. Husband in temple circuit, my partner at the factory site, me thousands of miles from home and...have all the time in the world. I offered to show the office and this time no accidents but the deliberate action I put my hand on her waist and took her around ostensibly telling her what works she needs to do. She didn’t say anything and I showed her the office with my hand lightly touching her waist and shoulders while doing so. She thanked me. “This is my home, my City. You can’t drive me away. I won’t let you. I had the others at my beck and call. I ruled, and I will rule again. That idiot Higgins and even your grandfather were my creatures. I had it all, and you will not take it from me,” she screamed at me.“No, Mary. This is now my City. If it was yours, why did you hide? Why did you let me take it from you so easily? Every action you have tried I have countered. Petty, very petty actions at that. You didn’t have as much control. “Oh baby, you ARE a little dirty there. Let mummy clean it.” For the briefest of moments Sandra asked herself what the fuck she was doing. It was the briefest of moments. The sight of her 12 year old son’s arsehole in front of her drove her wild and she moved in fast, her tongue licking at his puckered ring, trying to push it inside. She pulled as much spit into her mouth as she could and spat on his hole, then pushed her middle finger in a little, forcing the saliva inside. Brian moaned above. She still has that robe.Does she remember hearing the car in the garage? Or running down the stairs so that the robe opened entirely in her breeze, her pale, dancer's body contrasting with the robe as she opened the door to the garage and called out: "Darling!"The garage door was still open. What if someone had been walking a dog?She sometimes wonders what he remembers, if he plays back the sight of her in the doorway, her body, the robe masking so little, the sound of her "darling." Does he.
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