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It's huge.It's like tribal art.It's so cool.He has another one on his ankle, and another one on his shoulder." I rambled."Oh.So, what tattoo should I get?" I looked at him as if he was crazy."What?" He asked."Wow.Did you forget who you are already?"I asked.No emotion on my face.He raised his eyebrows at me.I growled in his ear as I sat on his lap.I put my mouth right next to his ear."You are my bitch.I decide for you.You will rarely ever get to make your own choice.You agreed to all that this morning in the pool.You can NOT forget that.I will pick your tattoo.Do not forget that.I am your Mistress.Your godess.Your whole world.Your everything, now.You will do as I wish without complaint.Understood?" I said before licking his earlobe and pulled back.I looked at his goddamn cute face."Yeah.You could be so vicious sometimes.So.What tattoo am I getting, princess?" He asked."Since you call me princess a lot, I decided that you would get a silver tiara right.....here." I pointed at the bottom. “I ... uh...”“Hey...” Darryl said, slowly, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. Sasha gulped, then grabbed his wrist, then yanked him forward. But rather than throwing him onto the pile of coins and springing on him with the desperate abandon that Darryl had halfway expected, she stepped away from him, then squared the door. She looked like she was trying to figure out what to say. Darryl knew that she had to be waging an internal war with the intense, draconic attraction that Principal Lung had mentioned. Humans couldn’t resist a dragon.Darryl squared his shoulders. He had to ... yes. He knew what he had to do. He had to apologize. He had to make this right. He lifted his head.“Sa-”Sasha slapped him across the face.“Ow?” Darryl asked. Asked, because he wasn’t entirely sure it actually had hurt. He was a dragon.“You dick!” Sasha hissed.“What?” Darryl asked.Sasha slapped him again.“You fucking dick!”“What did I do!?” Darryl asked, without thinking about it. Sasha’s face.
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It was enough.The sorrowful son of a mathematicianMy father got a doctorate of mathematics at a large mid-western university, where he met mom who was studying chemistry and got her bachelor's of science degree. Like the boy in that tale of Asimov, I also had a sister. Basic nuclear family in the atomic age. Intellectual genes perhaps, but in the Junior year of High School I was flunking Algebra II. I had gotten C's in Algebra I, and B's and A's in Geometry the year before, but I was not having any fun in math class. Geometry had been like amusing puzzles, this was sloggingly slow drudgery in comparison. I understood it, but didn't want to study, homework was flagging, I was failing.Never an excellent student in those days, I struggled to pass my courses. Chemistry conked me, English grammar eluded me, French was Greek to me; but geology I had stone cold, being an old rock hound since boyhood. Bright brains, but if in a class I didn't like, I barely passed — or maybe not. More often.

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