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I've watched her as her ass moved in those business skirts and slacks. I've watched every curve of her body. How her breasts stuck out from the tight sweaters and blouses she wore. She was always playful with the guys. A natural flirt.I've always wanted to fuck Allison since the day I first saw her. What guy wouldn't? She had a body that any guy would give their left nut for. And she always walked around with an air of confidence that almost screamed "I can fuck any guy I want and you can't do anything about it!"Today was the best time for me. Her boss was overseas on a business trip, so she could wear more casual clothes. Today she wore black leggings and a black pullover sweater. The leggings hugged her shapely legs, which made up for the bulky sweater covering up her breasts. And I found out that she would be spending most of the workday filing old accounts. That meant she would be spending a lot of time in the file room, which was the only isolated room in the whole floor. When I got hungry I went to someone's house and they fed me and gave me something to drink. In thirty years no one had ever turned me away. I would take my fish and bring them to houses and divide the catch up among the people who fed me. The same held true for any wild pig that I killed. I often helped people trap sea turtles and to harvest the delicious sea turtle eggs when they were laid and covered on the beach.Coconuts, mangoes, pomegranates, bananas and other fruits could be picked from the trees while I was walking around. I knew who liked what, and would often drop things off as I walked by. Rock lobster was something I had to dive for, but I knew all the places where they could be found and was always ready to go for a quick dive.When Willie died, my perfect Island lifestyle died with him. We buried him next to my father, and near the headstone we'd put up for my mother when she'd drowned and her body hadn't been found.Tradition dictated that I needed to speak at every.
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The scents that fill the room are simple; candle wax, a breath of perfume (mine? I can't tell), the detergent that was used on the sheets beneath me. The only taste in my mouth is of the light metallic tang of the water I was given, but I can't remember how long ago that was, only that it was welcome as it ran past my lips, soothing my aching throat. And I can feel only the silk of the restraints around my wrist, like the caress of my lover, sharp only if I resist their gentle hold; the warmth of the cotton sheet beneath my body, smooth and easy; the warm air from the furnace vent, drying the beads of sweat that dapple my body. I strain to hear his steps, so that I can prepare for what I know is to come, wanting to pull my bound feet up, my knees further beneath me, but not able to move more than a few inches in any direction. I am tied, face down, spread wide, waiting... always waiting... and wanting. I gasp and let out a sharp cry as I feel the first touch of something, more.

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