She took my hands, one at a time, kissing my palms as I watched her breathlessly, my heart skipping so many beats that I wondered if I was having some...sort of seizure. She kissed my knuckles, her kisses soft and wet against my flesh, before buckling the restraints around my slender wrists."Face the fence." she commanded. Where before she had been tender, now her voice was stern. She was no longer my Kay. She had become Mistress Kay and was to be obeyed without question.I turned, shivering not. “I must see her, please,” he said more quietly.He followed the wave of shawl-wearing women pushing to the bottom of the stairs. There he stood looking frantically for her. The Imam remembered his journal and had faith the prayer would be delivered. He devised a plan of action, for he could not simply walk up to her and confess his deepest desires. And yet he could do no less, because plans and schemes failed him. Only women have this particular effect. The heart pumps so loudly that every. More

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