I opened the door and walked into the dimly lit arcade. Micheal came up to me. "You look fuckin' beautiful, bitch," he said. "I've got everybody ready... in the back booth in the corner. Come on." He gripped my upper arm and pimp-walked me back to booth # 25. It was one of the large booths and was located way in the back of the arcade. All kinds of shit took place in the back.When Micheal opened the door and we stepped inside my legs almost gave out; there were about 20 men in there, all naked,. We exchanged a lot of words, but that was all we exchanged. So the dinner was just two friends meeting for dinner. Except she confessed that on her first or second date with her boyfriend, when he kissed her for the first time, she was thinking about someone else at the time.She had been thinking about me. But I was married, and that was forbidden territory for her.Or the time I wrote her an erotic story, and she ended up reading it while alone, out in a field in a park, and ended up. Moving quickly, Karen went to the end of the hall and into the living room. There, in the basket Mommy had bought just the other day, were the puppies, Fred and Wilma. Those were funny names! Karen bent down, keeping a firm grip on her dolly, reaching out to wake her new pets."Fred! Wilma! Wake up!"They did, like good puppies. Fred raised his head, eyes opening slowly. On seeing her, though, he sprang up. Wilma was just a moment behind. Knowing there was little time, even if she didn't know HOW. As a member of the planter-class, my husband has authority over everything on the plantation … including me.Truth be known, I am often bored, unable to travel like my husband. I am considered the guardian of the home, responsible for the same household tasks day after day. I keep careful accounts of my family's food and clothing supplies. My husband expects his home to be kept scrupulously neat. He expects my appearance and behavior to meet an equally high standard. You see, I must always.