. having just finished performing a small piece of aballet with the rest of Ms. Donadio's class.While Michael Dellinger sat in the front row, clapping... proudly."What ... the ..." The words died in my throat. I didn't need to ask whathad happened. I already knew. My second grade experience, the one thatbelonged to Jack Hamilton, was gone. Replaced by that of Sasha Dellinger.If I thought about the summer before that particular school year. I couldrecall things like kickball games with the other. “What about them?” he mumbled at her neck, his mouth and tongue making love to her skin, his fingers tangled in her hair. “I want them off.” “Only if the lace comes off.” His hand slid to her hip, his fingers just toying with the skin just underneath the edge of the miniscule garment. She slid her fingers underneath the edge and with a wiggle and a kick, she was naked in his arms. She pulled at the waistband of his jeans again. “Now.” Breathlessly, she kissed him. He worked the buttons. There were a series of leather laces running up the back where the hood tightened in place, I surmised. A shiver ran up my spine as I stared at the expressionless mask. I wondered if he used it on the woman he had down here last night.I looked at other objects on the shelves above the bench. I saw a pair of wicked-looking nipple clamps with a chain running between them. I noticed another crop, and I picked it up. The leather straps fell limply from the woven leather handle.This crop must be. After 3 pints and an hour later I realised that my luck must be somewhere elseso I left and headed to another gay bar over the street.After about half an hour (or another 2 pints) a crowd came in some of which Iknew, so temporarily I reverted back to my usual self "the easy going guy who'snot afraid to drink in gay bars despite the fact that everyone knows he'sstraight because they know his girlfriend as well".I drank with the crowd for a further hour before finally making my excuses andmoving.