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”“I wish it weren’t the case, but I agree with you. So what now?”“We make love, sleep, and tomorrow is another day.”August 19, 1993, Chicago, IllinoisAfter my run with Gina and a shower, I went to the kitchen for breakfast. As she had when she’d lived here the previous year, Michelle came in, made toast, poured some tea, and quickly ate and drank. She was gone less than ten minutes after she arrived, with the only words spoken being ‘Good morning’.“Start talking!” Elyse ordered when we got into my car.“There isn’t really much to say. After a year at the monastery, she concluded she didn’t belong there, and chose to leave rather than take her vows. She plans to register for classes at UofC. If you remember, she didn’t leave school, she simply dropped her classes.”“You know darn well it isn’t that simple! I read your journals and I know how you feel about her.”“And yet, all I did was hold her hand.”“All you did? Seriously? You wrote in your journal that her taking your hand in that. She said she had to finish dressing and be back in a few minutes. Sara returned to the bedroom and asked me if I would be good until she returned. I struggled in my bonds and wiggled on the bed trying to free myself, and she said, I didn't think so. She went to the dresser drawer and got some more rope, and she tied my elbows together till they almost touched and were tied tightly. Then Sara proceeded to tie my upper thighs, above and below my knees the same way tight. Next she tied one end of another piece of rope around my waist above my ass and took the ropes other end and pulled it through between my legs at the ankles and pulled it back to my naked ass pulling my feet till they were touching my buttocks. I could feel the balls of my feet pressing against my ass cheeks as she tied the rope tied around my waist. Sara then used another piece of rope tying my wrists to my ankles and I was hog-tied. I could feel my now hard cock pressing into the bed cover. My cock had betrayed me,.
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At the end of a hard day, her father would push her towards the men’s room – the only restroom for the all-male press staff – with orders to scrub the ink off her cheeks and comb the lint of newsprint from her golden curls. Then he would send her off to cover a town council meeting. More than one of her teachers looked at her fingers stained yellow by film developing chemicals and accused her of smoking. ‘A small town newspaper is the best classroom in the world,’ her father said. The best classroom in the world. Robyn hoped she would remember the lessons. Now she was alone. As the sun rose higher in the blue sky, a breeze swirled through her ash blonde hair. She bent down to slip on her dress shoes, then started down the hill. The newspaper board was finally going to honor her father’s work. She didn’t want to miss it. In the conference room, a knot well-dressed men opened a path as Senator Helene Falkland entered. They quickly swarmed around her. She turned to the county.

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