© Copyright 2004 - Stuart - Used by permission
Storycodes: Sbf; susp; cons; X
Tracy was the most sought after interior designer in Southern California, and now limited her practice to just two types of work. Her primary business activity was in association with any of the three top architectural firms, coordinating the interior design with the exterior, thus assuring that the furnishings, floor plan, and the architecture all presented a unifying theme that made for a stunning art statement that reflected not only the client's taste, but her talents and the architect's. And occasionally, she accepted an assignment with a client for just a redo of the interiors, but only for those clients who had an unlimited budget.
Tracy was 28, and struck an imposing figure. She was five foot,
ten inches tall, with a lean athletic figure, full busted, small hips,
long arms, legs, and neck. Her dark brown hair she kept short, so
that the soft natural curls bounced as she rushed through her busy days.
Her large eyes accentuated the beauty of her face.
Jim was one of those architects she worked with regularly, and the man she loved. They found their work relationship very open and equal, with each respecting the other's work, but challenging it to match with their own. They could have heated arguments, and frequently did, over design details, without animosity. And the results were cleaner designs that won them one architectural award after another.
Their private time together was as tranquil and spontaneous as their professional lives were hectic. After a day of hassling with contractors, clients, their staffs, and their own design efforts, they would relax together, leaving the office problems behind, and enjoy the entertainment available in their great city. Concerts, theater, great restaurants, sailing, tennis, or just a relaxing dinner at either Tracy's or Jim's condominiums. And in all, they were equals. Tracy's tennis was as good as Jim's, and they were both competent sailors. Tracy's cooking was more to the exotic, with delicious sauces, fine sea food, and subtle deserts, but Jim was equally talented as a cook, but specializing in a heavier fare of meat dishes, and outstandingly subtle wines.
Only in their love making was this sharing not equal. Here Jim was clearly dominant, which Tracy happily accepted.
They had worked together, at first only occasionally, but now regularly, for almost five years. But they had been sharing their social life for just the last two.
Jim had been begging her to marry him since May, but Tracy had hesitated. "We have such a perfect relationship, Jim," she told him, "I can't believe after this many years I have found a man I so entirely enjoy. But I want to be certain. When I do marry, I am going to give myself fully to my husband, and so I must know it is right. You need to be sure that I am the right woman for you, and if you continue to think so, keep telling me. If we aren't meant for each other, then we should split, no matter how much fun we have together. I'll make my decision by the end of the year."
Unlike most of their friends, neither was anxious for a live-in arrangement. They worked too hard during the week, with Jim often working till four in the morning, perfecting his architectural plans. Tracy, on the other hand, liked to retire at ten or eleven in the evening, then rise after a few hours' sleep. She achieved some of her best and most honored designs in those hours between four and six a.m.
In the months since that discussion, their love and respect for each other had increased, and Tracy had decided a month ago to accept Jim's proposal for marriage, but like everything she did, her acceptance was to be dramatic.
Now it was just four days before Christmas, and her plans were complete.
Jim had been in New York for the past week, and wasn't due back in Los
Angeles until Christmas eve. This was just the break she needed.
She had cancelled all appointments, and spent the entire time preparing
her "display," as she called it.
The display was to serve two functions. First, it was to decorate Jim's condominium for Christmas, and secondly, to present herself to her lover. A path of white poinsettias was to lead Jim from his vestibule to the living room, where he would see the Christmas tree. The stylized tree of lights was to fill the living room, two stories high, eight feet in diameter at the base, and would be composed entirely of straight strings of multi-colored lights, running from the base, directly up to a single hook mounted at the peak of the two story living room. Spaced about every ten inches along the circumference of the base, she would have 30 strands of tiny, flickering lights, each blinking individually. Inside this "tree" she was going to place herself, nude, and bound, helplessly giving herself over to her lover, for whatever he wanted to do with her.
It had taken quite a bit of thought by Tracy to come up with a plan to lock herself inside her tree. But finally, a call to a moving company had solved that problem. They had a giant air bag, used to gently raise and lower delicate objects, which she had rented. Deflated, it was only eight inches high, but when inflated, would go to three feet.
It took the entire morning to get the strings of lights arraigned to her satisfaction. Four steel cables carried the weight of the ring, but these were mostly obscured with the 30 strands of lights strung from the base to the peak. Between each light, she attached a large silver bobble. The steel ring that formed the base just cleared the air bag when it was deflated, and the entire tree would rotate from its single attach point. All the power for the lights came from the top, through the swivel joint that made the tree rotate. A silver cloth concealed the base ring and the air bag under it. The interior of the tree was empty, except a single 12 foot long chain, hanging directly down from the peak, and wrapped with gold ribbon. This was to hold her.
She turned on the small pump that inflated the air bag, and the base ring gradually rose, letting the cables and light strings go slack. As the bag was inflating, she fastened some cuffs to her wrists and ankles, and then a three foot long chain to each ankle cuff. She had attached a string to both the release valve for the air bag, and to the switch that controlled the pump. Making a loop on the end of each of these, she slipped one over the middle finger in her right hand, and other over the middle finger, left hand. Carefully, she parted the strands of lights and climbed inside the tree. Reaching down, she attached first one chain, then the other, to the base ring. This held her legs about three feet apart. Now she raised her wrists, and hooked the D loops on the inside of each of her wrist straps over an open S hook hanging from the end of the overhead chain.
"Now here goes the trial run," she said out loud, to reassure her self. "If I haven't planned right, I may be here until Jim returns four days from now!"
She gave one string a little pull, using the little free motion she had in her hands, and the pump stopped running. She tried it again, and the motor came back on. Again she shut it off, then tried the other string. The air began to flow from the bag, and the base started down, carrying her with it. She pulled the string again, and the motion stopped. After several more minutes of testing, she was convinced all was working correctly, and with the pump off, again let the air out of the bag, this time until it was entirely empty. As the heavy base got closer to the floor, she was forced first onto her toes, and finally was left hanging just by her wrists. Her legs were pulled to each side, leaving her in a spread-eagled position. She found she could move her legs slightly, and made a mental note to shorten those chains by one loop each when she locked herself in on Christmas eve.
"This position is not comfortable," she thought, "but if I time it right, I will only be here for five or ten minutes." The primary discomfort was the pain in her shoulders, but the wrists, too, were squeezed unpleasantly together. She waited patiently for another fifteen minutes, and her discomfort got no worse. "There should be no problems," she decided, and closing the valve, reinflated the bag, and her legs could again support her weight. She unhooked herself and stepped onto the carpet.
The next three days were spent in getting herself ready. She went in daily for electrolysis, until all her pubic hair and hair in her armpits had been removed. She had a fresh manicure, succumbing to extra long nails, nails that would have interfered with her design work. Her hair had just been done by one of the city's top stylists, and it had a very festive look. The ends had been tipped to make them blond, and flecks of gold were scattered through her hair.
Jim was due in at LAX at 4 p. m. With just a 15 minute taxi ride to the marina, he should be there before 5, at the latest. It was just dark at 5 pm, which will show off the Christmas lights better, she thought. Jim expected her to be at her condo, so she had put her phone on call forwarding when she left there at noon to go to Jim's. At Jim's condo, she bathed herself carefully, then stepped out and admired the view of herself in the mirror.
"You are stunning, my friend," she told herself. "But you sure look nude without that pubic hair. Now let's get you gift wrapped."
She now had gold leather wrist and ankle straps, which she carefully placed on her limbs, and locked in place with tiny gold locks. She took particular care on her wristbands, making certain that her hands could not pull through them.
She had gone a little overboard in locks, but after searching all over the city, she had found a store in West Hollywood that had locks for the bondage crowd, and what a collection! Its stock ranged from little gold and silver padlocks, smaller than her little fingernail, to huge massive steel locks, weighing more than 20 pounds each. She had purchased four tiny locks, to hold the gold cuffs on her ankles and wrists, two conventionally sized locks, to anchor her ankle chains to the base ring of the tree, and a great oversized lock, to lock her hands to the overhead chain. They were all in gold, and were all individually keyed.
Tracy took great care in hiding all the keys, making certain that none of them were in easy view. Two were even placed on the upper portion of the tree, reachable only from the balcony. Then she attached a gold foil gift card, the size of a license plate, to herself with a tiny gold chain that encircled her petite waist. The card read, "To Jim, with all my love, forever." She applied her makeup, and then, finally, wrapped several yards of gold ribbon about her body. It started at her neck, came between her boobs, around her waist, and down one leg, tied off in a bow at her ankle cuff. She attached a like ribbon to her other leg, and ran similar ribbons around her arms, fastening them at bows on her wrists.
Just then the phone rang, and she picked it up expectantly. "Tracy," exclaimed Jim in excitement, "I'm almost home. My plane is over Los Vegas right now. I should be in within the hour. And I am carrying my baggage, so there won't be any delay there. I miss you so, honey."
"I miss you, too, my love," she replied eagerly. "One hour is a long time to wait. Make it quick."
"Are we meeting at your place or mine?" he asked.
"Oh, honey, I'm glad you asked. Let's make it at your place. I'm running a little late, so you'll probably get there before I do. Just be ready for anything when I do get there!" Due to the miracles of call forwarding, Jim lacked any way of knowing that Tracy had answered her number at Jim's condo.
"Tracy, I still want to marry you. Have . . . "
"Now, Jim, it's not the end of the year yet. Be patient. You will get your answer as soon as I am sure! Goodbye, now, love," she cut him off, and place the receiver back in its cradle, with a broad smile on her face.
Tracy found waiting difficult, and now the minutes seemed to drag into hours. The sun was setting and shining directly in the huge south-facing windows. She was glad for the shadow draperies, for they cut the sun and gave her privacy. Nervously, she went to the kitchen to check the clock. Just 3:15. One hour until he would arrive.
She opening the refrigerator, remembering that she hadn't had lunch. She found some cheese, and an open bottle of one of Napa's best Fume Blanche's. She nibbled at the cheese, and sipped a bit of the wine, then remembered the Christmas music that was to be playing while she was in the tree. She quickly finished the wine and cheese, then selected all the Christmas music CD's she could find, and put them in the player. "Four hours' worth. That should be plenty! But I will set it to repeat, just in case Jim and I are too busy to change them!" she told herself. She turned the volume up, listened for a bit, then turned it up again until the music dominated all that was in the room.
She had another glass of wine, then replaced the bottle in refrigerator. She was going to do it now. Waiting in the stretched position inside the tree would be no worse than pacing the kitchen floor, she thought. "And I'll feel much sexier in bondage than I do now!" she said to herself.
She filled the air bag, disconnected its pump, which she put out of sight in a closet. Again she slipped the string from the release valve over her middle finger, and then carefully parting several strands of lights, climbed inside her tree. Once she locked the first ankle to its chain, she was committed. To this ankle she attached a string that went to the switch for the lights and the device that rotated them. She locked the other ankle, then stood erect, with her wrists together in front of her. Her right hand held the last of the gold padlocks, the big heavy one. She felt a sexual excitement running through her entire body, and her boobs felt like they were on fire, her nipples fully aroused. "Okay," she said out loud, "Let's do it!"
Carefully, so as not to drop the padlock, she slipped it through the D ring on each wrist band, and then pinching the open hasp between the heels of her hands, raised the lock up toward the hanging chain. She was about to slip the hasp over the last link in the chain, but found that if she stretched her body as far as she could, balancing precariously and just a few toes, she could even fasten it two links higher. At this point she was so horny that pain was welcome. She snapped it closed on the higher link, and settled back down. Now her heals could not touch their supports, and her toes had to take her body weight.
Tracy's fingers grasped the string to the release valve, and gradually worked out the slack until the string was taut. She wound the string around her fingers to hold it. Again, she went up higher her toes, giving her arms as much slack from the overhead chain as she could. A gentle tug on the string, and the air started flowing out of the bag. A second sharp tug, and the string broke. As the bag started to lower the base of the tree, she let her end of the string fall.
Tracy felt that it took forever for the air to release from the bag, and just as slowly the pressure was building up in her arms and wrists as the entire weight of her body was coming through them. It was then that she realized that she should not have taken those extra two links out of her overhead chain. The heavy, eight foot base ring, instead of being held by its steel cables, was entirely supported by the chains from her ankles. She groaned as she felt this unexpected load on her arms, and twisted her wrists to find a more comfortable position for them. The heavy chain was between her wrists, causing her severe discomfort, as her weight forced her arms tightly together. The sound of air stopped, and the base of the tree swung free. She discovered that any movement of her body made the tree move.
She had planned not to turn on the lights and the rotation until she heard Jim approaching. But now, as she felt the full weight of the base ring and her weight coming down through her wrists, she did not even notice the slight tug on her left ankle as the string to that switch went taut. She struggled again, trying to find a more comfortable position, and this time the string broke. As it did, it turned on the power to the rotation coupling and the lights. Not only was the room suddenly ablaze from the more than 1000 tiny bulbs, but she felt herself start to turn. She stopped wiggling, and let her arms straighten as she hung helplessly.
"Please, Jim, hurry home," she whispered. She watched in fascination as the sun sank closer and closer to the horizon with each rotation of her tree. The initial pain from her bindings had vanished, and now, she just felt awkward and uncomfortable. She didn't dare even speculate how long she could hold this position. The Christmas music drowned out all other sounds, and the lights made it very warm inside the tree.
Just as the sun was setting into the ocean to the west, the phone rang. Her first reaction was one of satisfaction, for she knew she had reset the answering machine before she locked herself in her tree. On the fourth ring, her answering message cut in. It was her line that was ringing! Then after the beep following her message, she heard Jim, "Hi, Tracy, it's me again. Guess what? I'm back in Vegas! Our plane developed some problems half way to Los Angeles and we turned back.
But they will send us on as soon as they find another plane. Miss you!"
Tracy sank lower in her bonds, wondering now how long she could hold out. And what would happen to her if she couldn't?
Thirty minutes passed, and Tracy was finding that she could stand her bonds, although her shoulders were screaming for relief from the pain. She flexed her fingers, and found that they would still work. "I must be getting adequate circulation to my hands," she said, as if to encourage herself. She lowered her head, and again examined her body. "It looks much better than I feel," she added proudly. Her tits again rose in anticipation of Jim's approval, and she felt a warmth in her crotch that she hadn't noticed before.
It was now dark outside, and the lights of the cities to the south were poking through the black. The shadow draperies softened her view. "Jim usually opens these draperies about this time," she said. Just then, during a lull in the music, she heard a new sound from the corner of the living room, and without waiting to look, she knew what it was. "Oh, shit," she shouted. "I forgot about those power draperies. He has them on a timer! Now I will be in full view of the public!"
And soon she was. With the draperies open, the penthouse condominium had a 180o view of the marina area, and hundreds of other swank apartments. "And they all have telescopes like Jim's," thought Tracy. "With the lights set this way, they can see in better than I can see out! I hope no one calls the cops!"
The spectacular tree of lights did attract may of the marina's telescopes, but fortunately, only a few looked closely enough to spot the nude in the center of the lights. She was well silhouetted by the lights behind her, as well as fully illuminated by those in front of her, so that those neighbors with quality telescopes got a terrific view. Still, none of them were as high as Jim's condo, so they could not see the base of the tree of lights, and her bound legs. As far as they could see, it was just a pretty woman inside a tree of lights, with her arms held above her head.
"Well, Tracy, you got yourself in a fine mess this time," she said to herself. "You might as well relax and enjoy it," she added, with a trace of a laugh. So she closed her eyes, let her head drop until her chin rested on her chest, and waited helplessly for Jim's arrival.
She was almost asleep when the phone rang again, over two hours later. She waited impatiently as through the playback of her recorded message, only to hear the phone go dead as the caller hung up. Then seconds later, Jim's phone in the study rang, and it, too, went dead after the message was finished. Jim must have been trying to call, but where was he?
Jim had finally landed at LAX, and was puzzled by his inability to get an answer at either Tracy's or his phone. "She must be en route, from her place, to mine," he thought. He rushed from the terminal, grabbed a cab, and headed for the marina.
Tracy was now fully alert again, and the pain in her shoulders and arms was acute. She twisted her body, and again sent the tree of lights into oscillations. "If Jim is calling from Vegas, he's still 90 minutes from here. If he is at LAX, I'll see him in 15 minutes!" This last thought encouraged her, and she pulled herself up, taking full breaths, and shaking her head as if to freshen her curls. To her relief, the deep breaths seemed to ease her pains, and she continued them. She was still feeling optimistic and fresh when she saw, reflected in the windows, the doors to the vestibule opening.
Jim was tired and discouraged when he paid off the cabby and caught the elevator to the top floor. "Where could Tracy be? I hope she hasn't had a problem."
His attitude went instantaneously from dejection to elation when he saw the vestibule full of poinsettias, blocking all doors but to the living room. He dropped his luggage and threw open the doors to the great central room. His first glance caught the reflection of the tree of lights in the windows, and they he saw Tracy.
"Tracy!" he yelled, as he rushed toward her. "What a spectacular!" He stopped at the edge of the slowly rotating tree, and admired the beautiful nude figure in its center. Tracy noticed that his prick, although still inside his trousers, was fully erect. Then he saw the huge gift card, and putting an arm between the lights, lifted it up to read it. ". . .with all my love, forever," he read out loud as her read. "You mean . . . "
"Yes, dear, I accept," she shouted over the music, with a smile as she interrupted him. "But get in here and hold me. I am so hungry to be in your arms."
"May I shut the draperies first?" he asked with a laugh. He pushed a button, and the clear view the neighbors had of the tree of lights was now gone. He spotted the gold key on the window ledge, and grabbed it before the draperies hid it.
Jim stripped off his clothes, throwing them about the room as he removed them. Once nude, he started to climb inside the base of the tree. He put one foot on the steel rim, and Tracy let out a little cry of pain. The Jim's added weight had sent sharp pain through her already aching shoulders.
For the first time, Jim looked at the way Tracy was locked in the center of the tree. "Jesus Christ, Tracy, you have your weight and the weight of this ring coming through your shoulders!"
"Yes, honey, I got carried away at the last minute, I was so horny, and locked myself in tighter than I should have. But I'll be okay. Just climb in carefully. I am sure that once you get in, I can stand the load through my shoulders!"
"No way, honey," he answered. "We don't want to risk any dislocated shoulders. Does this key fit all the locks? It looks too big for those little ones on your ankles. Give me the rest of the keys, and I'll release you."
"I don't want to be released. And the keys are hidden in this room," she replied.
"And how do I stop this merry-go-round? I'm getting dizzy just watching you!" he said. "As my slave, I order you to tell me how to stop this machine! Don't you realize that I can skin you alive for every disobedience of a slave to his master?" only the smile on his face took the threat out of his words.
"And as a slave, my master, I can always say that I don't know nothing!" she shouted back over the loud music.
"Just wait till I get my hands on you!" he answered, as he started examining the wiring.
"That's what I am waiting for, Master, is for you to get your hands on me! Please hurry!"
As Tracy waiting impatiently, Jim examined the construction of the tree of lights. He found the controller and the rotation stopped. After so many hours of spinning, Tracy welcomed being stationary again. Jim turned down the volume on the sound, and switched it to an FM station. He returned with the pump, and soon had the weight of the ring off her arms, with her legs again resting on the base of the tree. Only then did he climb inside the tree, and take her in his arms. His lips greedily sought out hers, as he let his hands slide down over her delicious buns. He pulled his face away from hers, and let his tongue trace a path down her neck and between her boobs, working its way around the golden ribbon that graced her body. Soon he had her left tit in his mouth, and she groaned in ecstasy.
He continued working lower, and soon had his tongue on her mound of Venus. With her legs still chained to the ring, though not under full tension, she could only tilt her pelvis slightly toward the probing tongue. He laughed at her plight, and continued the teasing with his tongue. Using all the strength she could muster, she pulled up with her legs against their chains, and, to reward her effort, Jim put his tongue into her already moist slit. With his hands under her thighs, he held her in this strained position while his tongue roamed her insides at will. His teeth found her clit, and he nibbled at it, causing her to scream with delight. Gradually, he released her, and slid up her body, again finding her lips.
His swollen prick search for its entrance, and again Tracy strained at her chains as she tilted her pelvis to accept it. With a little help from his hands, again lifting her thighs, he was inside her. His hands grabbed her boobs, and began massaging them in rhythm with the probes of his penis. She strained at her chains, trying to grab his legs between her thighs, and he responded to her efforts with an increased pace to his probes. She screamed as she came, and Jim reduced the pace and depth of his probes. But this was not for long. Now he came on strong again, thrusting deeply into her, with his lips on hers, his tongue deep in her mouth. He felt her responding again, and they came together.
He held her close, enjoying the pressure of her boobs against his chest. Slowly, and after some time, he pulled his head back and said, "That was some fuck!"
She laughed her gently little laugh, and said, "And the first of many more?"
Now, for the first time, he closely examined her bonds. "These gold leather cuffs are real fancy. Where did you ever find them?"
"I had them made, master, just for you to use. When ever you want," was her reply.
"How are your shoulders?" he asked.
"Sore," was her reply. Then with a short laugh, "But the immediate problem is elsewhere. I really need to piss!"
"Do you think I will release you just so you can piss?" he replied.
"Well, I was hoping you would."
"You would have to tell me where all the keys are hidden."
"No way. You have to find those yourself. I bet I can go another hour before I wet your living room floor."
"Well, I do have one key, and it's a big one. I bet it fits that lock over your head." He reached up, inserted the key, and the lock opened. Using both hands, so as not to loose the tension on her arms, he reinserted the lock in the last link of the chain, and relocked it.
"Now we will see how comfortable you are in this position." He climbed from the tree, and let the air out of the air bag. This time, the cables took the weight of the bottom ring, but her leg chains were just snubbed tight.
"Now, stay right there, and let me know if you want to piss bad enough
to tell me the locations of the other keys." And with that, he began to
search for the keys.
He soon had two more of the keys, including the one from the back of her gift card. He went up to the balcony to search in the upper portion of the tree, where he found another one.
When he returned, he not only had the three keys, but a long narrow serving dish from his kitchen. To Tracy's surprise, he pushed this between her legs, and said, "Now, piss. I don't want to be rushed this evening. We have lots to talk about, and lots of love making to do, and we don't want to be interrupted by body functions. Piss."
Tracy laughed, and let it come.
Jim took the full bowl away, and returned with a basin of hot water and a wash cloth. "Tracy, you are dripping wet. Those lights put off lots of heat. Let me sponge you clean. But first I must remove these ribbons."
Tracy found Jim's gentleness and consideration outstanding, and was further convinced that this was the one guy in the world that she could trust to be her dominant master. With her bladder empty, and her body washed and dried, she felt very fresh again.
Jim started a fire in the fire place, then sat in a chair facing Tracy, and looked at her intently. "Honey, you are as nude as a Greek statue of Venus.. And as pretty. But how long have you been in here? And when did you last eat. You must be very thirsty. Let me open some champagne to celebrate." He jumped up and returned with a cold bottle of champagne and one glass. This he held up to her, letting her sip as much as she wanted. Then he sat again and finished the glass, then refilled it. "More?" he asked.
She shook her head from side to side.
"When did you lock yourself in here, honey?" he asked.
"I got impatient, waiting for you. I was so horny. So I locked myself in early. It was 3:30!"
"Jesus Christ! It is now 9:30! When did you last eat?"
"I ate a good breakfast," she answered defensively, and with a little laugh.
"Boy, am I both a terrible host and slave master. Letting you starve to death." He jumped up and ran to the kitchen.
"Dinner has never tasted so good," commented Tracy, when he had finished feeding her. During the meal, she had related the details of getting the tree of lights made, and, of course, a detailed description of how she locked herself in, deflated the air bag, and started the lights and the rotation motor.
Jim leaned back in his chair, and looked up at Tracy in her cage. With his toe, he flicked the switch that started the rotation motor, and again Tracy was turning. Her eyes tried to follow his, making it necessary to snap her head around when her back was turned to him. He let the tree spin for many minutes, deep in thought. Tracy sensed that he did not want to speak, and remained quiet, waiting for her master to take the initiative.
Finally, his eyes focused sharply on her, and in his very gentle, soft voice, he began, "Our careers mean so much to each of us; they must have the priority of our time and thoughts during the week. You are Tracy then, and I am Jim. But once the weekend starts, you become Sheba, my slave girl. You are mine to do with as I please. You will have no privileges but those that I grant. You are Sheba until you retire Sunday evening. Of course, during holidays, the schedule will be adjusted accordingly. When you are permitted to talk, you will call me Cy. While you are Sheba, you will always wear some item of bondage. While you are Tracy, you will never wear an item of bondage. Do you agree to this?" he asked.
"Oh, darling, yes!" was her reply.
"If you want to marry me with the understanding that you will be my slave for the rest of your life, say so now."
Tracy's eyes sparkled as she replied. "Silly, that is all that I was trying to say with this tree and me! Sheba approves completely. And I am sure that Tracy agrees also."
Cy stepped up into the tree of lights, again turned off the rotation, and pulling her body to him, gave her a long passionate kiss.
"Sheba, dear, we need to get acquainted. Tracy and Jim know each other well, but Sheba is a different person, and probably Cy is too."
"Then let's get acquainted," Sheba replied. "It's pretty lonely
in here all by myself."