Either the ones about her and sex, or about masturbating. I would rather just die. So I asked her out, to the movies Friday night. We went, took her h...me, and sat around on the sofa in her house. It was a big and very fancy house. Her father was a doctor, my dentist, and very powerful in the town. He was also powerful in life, a serious guy not to get on the wrong side of. Not a guy to have know that I wanted to fuck his daughter, either. It would be a painful slow death. Or to know that I. Wincing at the bright white ceiling, Iwas sure I didn't recognise it, particularly the lampshade and certainlynot the quite ornate ceiling rose above it. Moving my eyes a little -even though it hurt to do so - I didn't recognise the wallpaper or thecurtains either. I came to the gradual conclusion that I just didn't knowthis room and I certainly didn't know why I was there.There were other things which seemed wrong as well, but I hadn't yetachieved a high enough level of consciousness to be. More

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