M. The Village was alive on that September Friday evening, people relieved of the workweek and the heat of a Manhattan summer. No more stinking garbage or sweaty subway platforms, but enough summer warmth to feel the freedom of evenings without coats and early darkness.The scene was as it has been for decades, changing in tone with generations, but not in substance. Thousands of people streaming down the wide sidewalks: colors of skin, hair and clothes, old and young, smiling and laughing, scowling and dying. Books, antique clothes, magazine stores, locals sitting on stoops, students trying to look cool on their first days at NYU. Smells of ginger/garlic/soy/sesame, pizza, souvlaki, onions and killerdogs.People waiting for buses, people peering into store windows and talking, people leaning against buildings reading books, people leaning against buildings dying. People leaving the 8th Street subway station into the night, people sitting on the sidewalk selling old books, new books,. He always marvelled at the different nuances of her voice. Right now it held that 'don't mess with me, I am in charge tone'"Are you alone little one?" was all He said. Her voice dropped to a soft and husky whisper."yes Master" He could hear the breathless quality of her voice."Put the phone on hands-free little one" He could hear the click of the line as she switched the phone over."Do so hope those batteries are fresh... hmmm?" He had ordered her weeks ago to keep a small vibrator tucked away in her bottom drawer. Up till now it was never called for."yes Master" the soft gasp as she realised His intentions sent a delicious shiver down His spine."Go lock the door baby. I will wait" He ordered her softly. He could hear her scurrying around the office, the loud click of the lock on the door, then as she sat back before the phone, He could hear her quickened breathing.He began to issue orders, commands to open her blouse, but not to totally undress. To pull each delicious orb free from.
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