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The sensual ones are what haunt me the most and make me feel the most shameful. I have spent many hours reminising about all of the fantasies we used to play through, remembering all the ways his words would send a fire throughout my body. All the while slowly killing myself with each memory that I dredge up.I recalled, more recently, a reverie of how we made love on a piano. One of my favorites. I remembered how he described every detail of how he would pleasure me with his tongue and it only set off a chain reaction of digging up more memories of him.I filled my head with reminisence of how he would sound when he said my name aloud and how he would practically beg for me to cum at times. How I would watch him intently as he laid back, closed his eyes and enjoyed stroking himself to thoughts of me. All the while listening to and enjoying my moans of pleasure as I teased and fucked myself to thoughts of him and his love. I recollected about how each time I loved saying I love you and. “Five,” I said. He looked at his watch. I figured it to be a Rolex, but I wasn’t certain.“Forty more minutes. Could we talk then?” he said.I was curious about the kid more than him and I couldn’t have said why. I nodded. He rose and the girl followed him to a table outside on the street side patio.Twenty minutes later my relief arrived. I pulled Marian aside.“He’s here,” I said, “and he’s got one of his kids with him.” I nodded to the couple out on the patio. She followed my gaze.“You want me to call the cops?” she said, smiling, “or maybe a friend of mine in the mafia?”“I’ll let you know,” I said.“Hmm,” she said.“I don’t hate the motherfucker anymore. I just don’t give a shit whether he lives or dies, or any of them if it comes to that,” I said.“What are you two talking about,” said Hank, coming back into the action from the bathroom.“Marian will clue you,” I said. “I have a little meeting with the pair outside.” I nodded once again in the direction of the visitors.“Oh, okay,” he.
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