My skeletons make for nothing but clutter. I have so many skeletons in my closet, that you might mistake it for a cemetery. The bones buried there are...generally hard, and I have touched each one individually, fingered each one languidly. There is no flesh to be found in this fantasy, so sorry Mr. Idol. I have been a slave, a pristine daughter, a virgin and a goddess. I have played a bitch, the four legged variety, and howled on command. I have been a cheerleader in bed, though I never was good. They are not the eyes of the man she fell in love with. Usually so kind and bright, now they are cold and dead. Almost reptilian, more like a snake than a man. She sees no love, affection or tenderness in those eyes. No passion, no desire. Nothing. His face is blank, expressionless. His gaze isn't even one of hatred or loathing. It's much worse than that. He is looking at her with absolute indifference. No emotion whatsoever. Her anxiety becomes pure panic. It grips her from the inside and. More

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