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“I’ll get us something to eat and drink,” Sarah stated, as she bounced out of the room. “You’re going to need your strength,” I heard her say, as she disappeared down the hall and into the kitchen to prepare something for us. “I’ll meet you in the guest bedroom,” I yelled, to no answer, as I dried myself. I walked down the hall and plopped down on the king sized bed in the guest bedroom. A few moments later, Sarah appeared in the doorway with a bottle of red wine, strawberries, grapes, some. The Whitcombs were about as antiwar as you could get. They were the GenX of the hippie culture. They made quick adjustments to our costumes that were pretty cool. My Black Butler costume was now all black, including shirt and gloves. Desi’s Madam Red was replaced by an all-black version that she unsurprisingly had hanging in her closet. Costumes didn’t have to be literal characters. Just having a costume was adequate enough. We drew crowds of picture takers and sent tons of people to the booth. I led her into the bedroom and got her onto the bed."Are you all right?" I asked as I lay down beside her."T-Tommy, we almost died out there. If I hadn't had the feeling I had to stop ... I don't know what it was though!" Huh? What do you mean?" It was like somebody or something called to me from the house. But how could that be?" She was seriously spooked."I don't know. I'm just happy that we weren't any further along the cliff." That's what I mean. Why did I stop right there? Tommy, don't. I visited Dede numerous times over the year but could never get her to give me more than a massage. I would put my hand under her skirt and she would let me rub her butt but never let me touch her pussy or tits. I really don’t know why but I began obsessing over Dede. I wanted for fuck her so bad; I wanted to act out my dirtiest fantasies with Dede. Dede always talked to me and told me things about herself and her family. She was married to an older white fat white guy who didn’t pay much.
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