She picked up on the third ring.“Hello?” she mumbled. She sounded groggy.“Hey, Em! It’s me. I thought I’d call and see how things are going,” I lied.“Everything is fine, but it is well after midnight, Ron, and I was sleeping,” she responded. “I will be at the airport at six tomorrow to pick you up. Don’t worry.”I have to admit I was confused and more than a little curious about her sleeping, but not at home.“Where are you? I tried calling our home phone and I only got the answering machine,” I. Everyone knew Dianna by name — another source of pride on my part, mixed with a touch of awe.She guided me directly into the performer's dressing room without so much as a knock on the door. Eight or ten gorgeous 'girls' were in various stages of dress, from fully costumed to not at all. Dianna paid no mind to their modesty — or complete lack thereof — any more than they seemed to mind my presence. Of course, everyone had to drool over my lover's dress, shoes, jewelry, and especially her. It was a solid five minutes or more before we could catch our breath. It only occurred to me somewhat later in my many lifetimes since that day our reaction to the gentleman's discomfort, which really was decidedly funny, was somewhat out of proportion, not to mention my abrupt acceptance of my situation.Still, even through our mirth, the questions to which I required answers only she could provide, were again rising to the forefront of my mind. I resolved to get the answers, by whatever means. " I put down the phone and threw on my silk dressing gown. I ran downstairs and, as I got to the front door, I took a deep breath and opened it. As he came through the door, he bent down to hug me. We both went to the kitchen, and put on a kettle for tea. I could feel him staring at me. It felt like he was undressing me with his eyes. It felt like he wanted to grab me and throw me down on the table and take me right then and there. With that thought in mind, I handed him his cup of tea. He.
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