They had grabbed her and lifted her up, and this was the point they were at when I bounced up, fast and angry.“Let her the fuck go assholes!” I ro...red as I leveled my pistol at the closest mans head. My voice dropped and the timbre cut through the air, “She is mine, and you will respect that, or the walls will be re-painted blood red.” I think that between the look in my eyes and the sound and conviction in my voice, it was enough to prove to them that I was dead set serious, and I would have. Megan's red eyes gazed at me, scaring me somehow. What the hell did Megan want from me? I couldn't understand... And this story of us being sisters didn't make any sense, nor the fact that Megan was kissing me again, this time with her mouth open, her tongue searching mine, her lips thirsty for kisses. Slowly Megan's lips went down my neck, sending thrills of pleasure up my spine. Megan's breathing speeding up... I couldn't stand it anymore."Stop. STOP." What?" How can you say we're sisters. Mustapha often played with Manuelito. Duringthe day, we took care of all his needs: I fed him with my milk, changedhis diapers and lulled him to a peaceful sleep. All the time, I feltblessed with a powerful, spiritual force that gave me all the womanhood Ineeded. Mustapha was always by my side, acting like a loving dad, the dadManuelito had lost before even coming to the world. I was very consciousof my role. Joana loved her child with all her life, like only Latinmothers can do. I complemented. She watched his strong hands from over his shoulder, waiting for him to reach the return to the darker theme. It would be cruel to stop him in the middle of the climactic build up, so she waited until the tremolo which signaled the end of the euphoric dolcissimo section. She placed a hand on his shoulder."Okay, Mr. Mazzini."He stopped almost reluctantly, and sat stone-still, looking at the keys.Irina returned to her chair, crossing her legs. "Start again."He looked at her, face drawn, and then.
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