I'm a teenager now." Try me."She draped herself over my lap with practiced ease, her palms on the floor to my left, and her tip-toes on the floor to m... right. Her pelvis was balanced perfectly across my lap, her rounded bottom elevated defiantly. The flannel stretched across her bubble buns in this position, pulling taut across this blessed canvas six or seven "Hello-Kitty" cartoons at various angles in a fetching kitsch-art display. The seam of her PJ bottoms was perfectly aligned — it split. Wilbur was standing beside her waiting for me to catch him up and get in first. He glared at me. I ignored him. "Rosie," he said as he fastened his belt, "you can drop me at the Japanese consulate please, and then you can take Greta home. I'll grab a cab later." Right, sir."I glanced at my watch. It was almost 10 past 11. "At this time? On a Friday night? You're kidding. Right?" "I have a meeting with Ito Cho." Who's he?" "Mrs Ito is one of their top international cultural liaison people." "It. Not that I thought it likely that she would try to escape; she had long ago passively resigned herself to the fact that she was a captive for life, and if anything, the idea of being subject to one man, rather than to a nightly succession of strangers, must have been to her mind a vast improvement in her condition. But there was no harm in taking precautions. On the voyage she passed as my wife, although I kept her confined as much as possible to our stateroom. Once back in England, however, I. Nothing heavy or brutal, just some fun bondage here, a little spanking there, and a lot of hot, steamy sex everywhere.The tricky part was hiding our little den of debauchery from my eighty-five-year-old mother who was a full-time resident in my home. Fortunately, my aunt took pity on me and would take my mother every other weekend. Also, fortunately, Mom was a heavy sleeper even when she was home.One afternoon, I came back into the house after taking out the garbage, and couldn’t find Mom in.
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