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He would always look down at her, some evil smile plastered on his face and would say, "you want one thing, to be defiled; to be debased into some submissive creature just for me." She would wake up gagging, gagging not only at the poison being spewed down her throat, but at his words. Never! Not her. She was far too independent to be some object of lust for a man to find his pleasure in.She would always find solace in her art after her unnerving dreams. Her advocation was pottery and sculpting, her vocation was a sales rep. She went into her studio and began carving into a block of clay. It always amazed her, empowered her that she could create beauty from some mundane lump, could transform it ugly and plain into something magnificent with her own hands. She worked almost mindlessly that day, not sure what she was even trying to form, and much to her horror, it began to look like a huge phallus. She slammed her fist on it in some finality and destroyed it.She came home very tired. The weekend would be an opportunity to watch Luke strut around in board shorts, and, given Mr. Amato's reputation for being a 'cool' parent, potentially to see if he was still straight when he was drunk.I got up early Friday morning, packed, and drove over to Mr. Amato's house. Paul and Luke were loading up the car when I got there. Caleb showed up a few minutes later and we were off. Luke had just gotten his license, so he drove. We got to the house around 10:00 and hit the beach for the rest of the day. Mr. Amato and his girlfriend, Jill, showed up around 3:00.After dinner, Mr. Amato got out beer for everyone and suggested we play strip poker. He got Jill naked in five hands, and they went off to the bedroom, to much eye-rolling from Paul and Luke."You guys want to keep playing?" Caleb asked."Sure," Luke said, taking a swig of beer, "If we were playing for money I'd be to sorry for you to have any fun." Ahhh ... you're full of shit."I threw a couple of rounds and gradually lost my.
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