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"You sure you don't want to stay for lunch?" I asked her.
"No, thank you. I have a term paper on the German expressionists due Wednesday and this week is going to be busy at the gallery, so Don will need my full attention. I won't have time to write it later. I have to do it this afternoon." That's Sybil when she's sober – organized, responsible, and thoughtful about her work responsibilities.
"Well, take this with you," I said, giving her a peach, "because if I know you, you'll start writing and get into it and forget to eat." The peach reminded me of her darling little butt.
Whistling Debussy, a happy and satisfied but slightly disheveled Sybil left our apartment to go downstairs to hers, carrying her bra and thong panties in plain sight as she walked.
After she left, Don cornered me in the kitchen, carried me into the master bedroom and threw me down. He ravished me for an hour and I came and I came and I came!
It was a nice weekend.
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