He holds me and asks what's wrong I shake my head for fear that if I try to say anything I will begin to cry. he asks again with a tone that tells me...he genuinely wants to know what is wrong again I shake my head nothing I say " no please tell me" I whisper as I clear my throat from the tears " how can something feel so good , be so wrong?" he pulls me close and steps away "I didn't want to hurt you or cause you any pain" taking the problem on his shoulders yet again" your not " I say ". I didn't feel like I was bailing out on the pitches, or flinching. But something was different, and, whatever it was, Sandy seemed to be the only antidote. When she was nearby, when I could think about her, back there behind me in the stands, the fear -- if that's what it was -- didn't take hold of me.Superstition? Was that all it was? Maybe. But I had never been superstitious. I'd never cared about mystical stuff; it had always seemed like bullshit to me. I certainly didn't worry about black. "Let's just get my naked little friend-slave back to the cabin."Joan helped Sara onto the lift and sat beside her. As soon as their feet left the ground she felt the cold of the seat coming through her ski pants and wished that she had taken off her jacket and let Sara use it to sit on.Sara started to shiver."Are you alright?" asked Joan."My fire is going out," answered Sara, "I'm getting cold." If they're recording the security and safety cams, this is going to make one hell of a video,". I put my left ear against the door.Thud… Thud… Thud… How long was she there for? Was she watching me? I dismissed the thoughts.That can’t be it, this isn’t a porno.----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------I walked into the living room that evening and caught Sarah sitting on the couch with a glass of wine in her hand. She watched the TV screen intently before I interrupted her. She looked up and smiled, the same radiant smile she had in the.
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