I eased my feet into slippers and went to sort the mail. Firstthough I looked in the mirror and touched my hair. Before, when I tiedit back, I could f...rget about it. Now the ends of the hair brushed myneck and shoulders and the sweep of the cut seemed to soften the harderlines of my face. I took the silver hoops out of my ears and put them inthe cigar box that stored few pieces of jewelry, replacing them withsimple gold posts and walked into the living room.My cottage was small and in February. After James had done so, I seductively dropped out of the dress and stepped out. As I stood before him in my white-laced bra and thong, I gently ran my hands up my sides cupping my breasts, fingers brushing my nipples. I undid the latch on my laced bra and gently unleashed my breasts from their cage. I watched as James slowly took his dark blue boxers off, unleashing his erected manhood. I wasn’t sure what the next step was, but James seemed to have a decent idea. He grabbed his hard cock as I. The Centurion thumbed back the hammer on his rifle. The point of the bayonet never wavered. The priestess in white stepped in front of her sister’s pistol. “We aren’t doing this,” she repeated.“You’ll be Excommunicated!” the Hammer priestess barked. “I’ll risk it,” the white-robed priestess said. “I came here to capture monsters, not to reignite a war that ended before I was born.” The Hammer priestess stared at her for a long, tense moment, and then lowered her gun. “You’re free to go,. No, we are mature now. Older, and more experienced. We want to feel life with a visceral edge, a reality that only exists when we look after ourselves. We want to cook our own meals, or choose not to. We want to clean up when we feel like it. We want to choose our companions, often based on a five minute conversation late one night, the year before. We want to cram as many people as we can in a small, dingy, dark, grotty flat, and then see if we can drive each other crazy. We want to be.
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