Nothing was different. Nothing had changed. I was simply sick of waking up and finding myself stuck in this tired life.I drug myself out of bed and go... dressed, wondering all the while about how to spend my last day. For someone like me, I guess there wasn’t much choice. I’d spend it like I spent every other: alone with my camera, one last time.I hefted my trusty camera from its place amongst the junk on my dresser and powered it on while slipping into my shoes. An unusual message filled the. I thought about seeing her again that night, and it occurred to me that we wouldn’t be going to bed together with her kids in the house, but just the thought of being with her again was exciting enough.Then, I thought of the beautiful, stylish and graceful woman she had become, and for an odd moment, I had both images in my head; the pretty, teenaged Linda of the 1980’s, with the face of a covergirl, and the poised, beautiful, and smart, adult Linda of today.I thought about the way Linda. He giggled, thinking of a tiny train rolling around in his head. "Choo choooo!" he said in his best train imitation. He laughed. It was silly.The genie patted him on the head and Nick looked up. The genie looked very happy. "Good girl," he crooned. "You make such a pretty blonde."Nick arched his back and lifted his face to smile at the genie. He knew it was true. He was pretty. Knowing that he was pretty made him giggle. It took another couple of moments before he remembered why he was pretty,. Finally he stepped back into the doorway, indicating with a sweep of his hand that she should follow. “Come in, slave.”----------------------------------------------------And that was how the ritual had begun. Diana wasn’t able to get up there every weekend, and sometimes James’ workload wouldn’t allow him any free time, but they had managed to get together at least every two or three weeks throughout that summer. The ritual had gradually evolved into its current parameters, and now, at the.
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