“What?” she asked.“Just ... never mind.”She laughed too. “Good odds for meeting girls.”“Uhm...” I blushed. “I have a girlfriend.”“So?” she winked.“We’re...”“Engaged?”“No.”“Pinned?”“Nothing so ceremonial.” I shifted things. “What about rehearsal?”“Classes are later. Seven until nine. There’s one tonight. I’ll pick you up at six-thirty.”“Uhm...”“Your address?”I gave it to her.After school I called Carol, my girlfriend. She was plain and chubby, but we got along well. We took each other’s virginity. My best friend, in the basement of another friend’s remarkably permissive parents, all of us stoned on pot and drunk on a bottle of Southern Comfort, remarked that I could do better than Carol. Except none of my friends had girlfriends at that moment. Maybe they were choosier? But I did like Carol. Maybe loved her. And her body never bothered me. The opposite actually.“You’re calling early,” she remarked. We usually talked lengthily after dinner.“Uhm, I have plans,” I told her.“Oh?”“There’s a. I kept playing with her, keeping her excited, and made her thank me for letting her do my housework. I also took some more pictures of her, nude and hungry for a man, washing her master’s dishes.When she was done with the dishes I made her turn around and hug me, and thank me again for bringing her home to be my slave. I caressed her again, and tried to make her feel good about being my property while she held me.I led her back to the bathroom, and had her get four fresh towels out. I had her lay two of them on the floor in front of the shower, and then I had her undress me, caressing and kissing every part of my body as she uncovered it.Then I had her turn the water on and adjust it until it was pleasantly warm, get a washcloth, and then when I stepped in, wash me. I spent a long time teaching her this facet of being a body-servant.Of course she got wet, but when she was done washing me, I didn’t let her wash herself up. I made her step out of the shower, stand dripping and.
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