That girl was me. I kept repeating it in my mind, making it sink in.Because no matter how stupid and ridiculous and insane this was, I knewthat it was...my reality.So I was cute. My cheekbones were prominent but my face wasn't bony, itwas full. My eyes were blue and my eyelashes were full and my nose wasslender and my lips were red and inviting. My hair was a dark blonde or alight brown, with highlights running through it. I don't know bra-sizes,but the breasts I was looking at certainly felt. A rare smile curved his cruel lips. He would be like the sun. The ruler, the conqueror, the master. Soon. His smile faded. Damian. His perfect, sainted half-brother. The one who inherited everything. The good one. The one who was so considerate that he intervened with the Archbishop to ensure that Draco’s position within the church was secured, by transferring the deed to the land on which the majestic building which was now St. Therese’s stood. The only one, in the eyes of the ton, who cared. Not surprisingly Selim began to cough and spit out some the alcohol on his shepherd’s tunic. He opened the top of the tunic exposing coils of his thick curly black hair that grew upon his neck and chest. Although this may have been a less than auspicious beginning to the men’s first night together, the two each chugged another batch of alcohol out of the flask and then barely managed to climb into the sleeping bag together. Soon Thomas began to smell a scent that was not entirely familiar but. "Well, tell me what you do..." Carl got the conversation started but they carried the ball while he listened. Theirs was the common story of Silicon Valley. Very smart, young computer science nerds recruited right out of college, working seventy hours a week. Their only social life was getting together about once a month and getting stupid drunk at the apartment complex's pool. While they talked the food began arriving. Trays of chicken wings, chips, cheese, sliders and nachos quickly covered.
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