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Everything was exactly as it needed to be, except the part about telling people it was here. Gah. I checked the log at the door. As I expected, several items were checked out this morning, so I was not the only one trying to work through frustration. Maybe we would get lucky. Maybe someone would read my mind and tell me what I wanted. Maybe I could hire Cynthia to do it.After that my day went much better. In retrospect, it is amusing how life changing decisions can go unnoticed.One of the advantages to living near good colleges is that they have good performance venues, into which you get good visiting orchestras. I had never heard the one playing tonight, but it had good reviews. Considering my escort, I could not have chosen a better program. It was a sampler of Russian composers. I did not know Cynthia well, but I knew she had dance in her blood. Shostakovitch, Glinka, Mussorgsky, Rimsky-Korsakov all cut their teeth on dance music, particularly Shostakovitch. Headlining was a. The way it looked in the light makes my description sound even more masterful. Looking at Renee sitting up, naked, just removed from this puddle, glancing down at it with a hint of red in her face, and glancing back up at me, I could tell that I was the first guy to make her aware that she had this particular ability. “Dennis,” she said. “Come on, help me get some paper towels.” I suddenly felt nauseous. I shook my head and dashed in to the bathroom. I threw myself on to the toilet and promptly puked my guts out. It was quick, but it was vicious. I kept my head on the bowl for a couple minutes, spitting and waiting to make sure there was only one load. I though about the ungainly amount of body fluids I’d come in to direct contact with that night. I had probably created some kind of deadly virus already. I wiped off the toilet seat and this time wiped off my cock. I flushed the toilet and walked back in to the living room. Renee sat there on the side of the bed. She had put a t-shirt.
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