’ I looked at her, not knowing what she was talking about. I looked down at my knee, then I glanced at my crotch and smiled. ‘No, I guess I don�...t.’ ‘I’m not talking about there. I mean on your finger.’ I looked at her, not understanding what she meant. ‘Your ring finger. You don’t have a tan line on your ring finger.’ She sipped her coffee. ‘A lot of the bikers who stop here have tan lines on their ring fingers. I guess they just can’t seem to enjoy the freedom on their bikes with a gold. How about that, Master? But that means I would have to tell Tiffany. No, for now this has to stay between me and the pervert. I pull up the blinds so that I can be seen clearly. The Master better get comfortable because this is going to be a masturbation marathon. First I put on some music. My favorite Enigma CD will put me into the mood. Chanting monks. A girl breathing hard in the background. The entire album dedicated to the Marquis de Sade. That's my kind of music. Too bad the Master can't. More

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