And to Mary, she said, "You must like being abused." I hate it," said Mary. Her eyes opened wide. Her mouth trembled. Too tough for tears, she sighed quietly, "I'm sorry. I'm drunk." Come on you two. Let's go downtown for Chinese to soak up the alcohol," said Amy."I'm sorry guys," said Mary in the taxi heading downtown sitting on my left while Amy held my hand at my right. "I like you two. Of the three of us, I like you." I don't understand," I said. "You're beautiful and intelligent. You seem to like your work and it makes you financially comfortable." I don't know either. Maybe I'm just not happy. It's like I'm with these people and I get these thoughts. I realize how weak they are and I attack. I want to be better than them, smarter, cleverer, and I am. Except a moment later I realize I'm not. They're nice and I'm not. You're nice. Nice is weak. It makes them vulnerable. But I'm the weakling. I'm the dummy. The way they look at me—the way you looked at me when I said ... whatever. Her veil of modesty was gone too. Katsu's dress greatly distracted the men exercising with me. The guiding principles of the ruling class was not usually to be found enshrouded in a temple dress of sheer cloth. There was not an inch of Mercedes's mother's body hidden from our male eyes. The white cheesecloth all boldly declared, "I want my man." The moment I saw her I knew my daily routine had finally vexed Lady Katsu. The chaste kisses had inserted enough nanomites to get her needy ache going.After I dismissed the rangers, Katsu and I joined hands at the beginning of our walk. Her palm was sweaty, excitement rolled down her body in the normal manner of a woman fully worked up for a tryst. The effect of her daily exposure to my sweat had worked Katsu up to a fever pitch as we walked our typical path around the pond. Extended nipples poked out of the broad weave of her dress, her glistening wetness was clear around her swollen nether lips. This was her fertile time and Katsu was in.
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