By nine o'clock I'd managed to catch up with myself and was stood outside the Mistress' bedroom with her breakfast tray in hand. I knocked on the door...as always and waited to be asked in... but when the voice from inside bid me to do that, my heart sank for that was not Her voice but was, instead, that of Mistress Angel! With deep trepidation, I pushed the door open and entered before crossing over to the bed where I carefully put the tray down. I then went to the window and opened the curtains. How could I not? That was some of the best damn head I've ever gotten." He is talking to a woman. I know this because the tinny, intelligible voice coming out the other end of the phone sounds high-pitched, feminine. His own voice is low and guttural, deeper than I'm used to hearing it in class. I'm both insanely jealous and eager to hear more. He is reclining in his creaky desk chair with his legs spread wide apart and his other hand stuffed inside the pocket of his paint-stained blue jeans.. More

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