Paul.Paul......MASTER PAUL......didn't seem like that type to her, she reflected, while laying there in the bed that night. Linda finished the 'letter', put a stamp on it, got up and put her robe on, walked down the stairs, out the front door and down the street to the mail box on the corner. The cool sidewalk felt good on her bare feet as she stood in front of the mailbox under the street light and read the 6:25AM pickup time on the box. She chuckled as she realized that if Paul was going to get this 'letter' today, the U.S. Postal Service's vaunted "in by 9 out by 5" boast would be put to the test really well, today. Glancing down at her watch in the dim light, she saw it was 3:22AM and, with a yawn, inserted the 'letter' and headed back down the street, padding along in her bare feet, to the house to get some much needed sleep. She was very stiff and not just a little sore from the hours of 'love making' and 'special treatments' she'd gotten from and given to her new found, she hoped, Master Paul. That and the five hour dancing session had made her vow that she'd never ever again try to 'get back to normal' so quickly after a 'session' with MASTER PAUL. When she got back to the bedroom, Johnny had come to bed from the front room couch and started his 'twenty questions' routine with her. God damnit, that pissed her off. He could stay out and play around all hours of the night (and day) with whomever he wished and she was supposed to keep her big mouth shut and not question him or bug him about it. Like tonight, for instance. She'd walked in the door from work at 2:20AM and he was asleep on the couch with Gina,from the lounge.....asleep, HELL!......he was sprawled over the top of her spread legs (one foot on the floor and the other hooked up over the couch back) where he had obviously 'died' after doing his usual thing, with a blanket only partially covering his bare, hairy little ass. |