“Yes. Everyone who plays the flute should learn singing.”“Should I learn singing?”“Yes.”“Why?”“Because you should know two instrumen...ts. Your voice is a handy one because you take it everywhere you go.”“That’s reasonable.”“Let’s start with your first real flute lesson,” Mr. Peters said.Danny rubbed his hands together and said, “Where’s the sheet music for Vivaldi’s Flute Concerto in D Major?”“It’ll be a couple years before you’re ready for that one,” Mr. Peters said.“I was hoping to play it for. "Mmmm, love it when you are like this, baby, a new side I have yet to see!" moaned Poul."You should as I learned to know exactly what I want in bed!" she said sounding so experienced for a 16 year old girl.She flicks her tongue over his head softly and sucks him again ever so gently as she kneels in front of him letting her long, black silky hair d**** in his lap, "Mmmm, Baby let me take that hair out of your eyes. I want to watch your pretty eyes!" declared Poul.He takes her hair and plays. I hoped that the odor of death wasn't too bad. Maybe they had found a boat without any passengers aboard. I hoped they had. The smell of death was familiar now, but it was no more easily borne now than it had been, at the beginning.We were nine, now. A great range of ages. Three men from Canada — fishermen now far, far from home. A housewife from St. Cloud, Minnesota. A 17-year-old boy from Atlanta — by way of Cripple Creek, Colorado. Two young black boys from Chicago. A disabled 50-year-old. She was going to enjoy giving her what she wanted, according to her choice of safe words. Just the fact that she felt the need to use a safe word had her turned on already. “So to be clear, we can get as rough as we want with her, as long as she doesn’t say the words ‘pain whore’, understand? That means ‘stop’, ‘please don’t', anything like that is just her living out her fantasy, and she is still enjoying it, that’s the idea behind a safe word.”“She really chose ‘pain whore', are you.