I don’t know why, but I saw red; was it passion? I often heard that red was for passion; was it anger? Did I silently want to make her bleed for att...acting my husband; filling his head with a fantasy that I felt that I had to fulfill? Natalie followed me in silence. I could tell that she was fascinated by my ass, and by the plan that obviously consumed me. “Will you slow down? I’m having a hard time maintaining my composure.” “Just shut up and find red satin sheets.” Natalie smiled and her eyes. Trombley was a dreamboat, that's what the other kids in my class said after he'd given a recital at our school. He was somewhere in his thirties, I guess--tall with bushy brown hair and a soft voice and big hands. Supposedly he was mildly famous for something--second or third prize at some not quite important music festival, but now he only gave lessons, and mostly he only took older kids. His wife was much younger, a former student, probably, and that summer she was off giving concerts in. More

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