In the late morning, Emily rapped on the door as I was trying to composean essay to complete my application to graduate school. I wasn't gettingvery far with it as my thought kept drifting to Paul; I even found myselffingering myself almost to an orgasm. When Emily rapped I was deep in asweet reverie wishing that huge piece of manhood was in me."Are you there, Katie?" Emily said, rapping a bit more insistently.Still in a fog, I answered, "Yes, Emily. I'll be there in a minute."I lived in the upper of a duplex over Emily and we shared a commonentrance hall on the first floor. As I opened the door, I could seePaul, the object of my dreams, standing at the bottom of the flight ofstairs looking up expectantly."Katie. Do you know this young man, Paul?" Emily asked."Yes, he's a student of mine." A moment of panic seized me; what was hedoing here? I looked at him with a mix of desire and fear."He'd like to rake our leaves. And I just want to know if you knew him." Oh yes. He's a. As we climbed the stairs together, I accessed her ‘mom’ book. In my mind, opening it, turning to the last page where she’d left off…reading back, and then mentally erasing what I felt she couldn’t share with her mother. And there I wrote: ‘Under no circumstances…ever…will you share anything with your mother about us. Every time you even think about doing so, you will immediately erase that thought from your mind. If you even hear anything with regards to that, from any other source, including your mother, those words will likewise be immediately forgotten as though never spoken, never shared. They simply will not exist!’ I don’t know why, but I added an exclamation point. It was like putting a lock on the passage, or writing it in her private book with permanent ink that could never be erased. As a safeguard, I then added a few more lines, another form of security perhaps, protection, though this one I still wasn’t sure of. Perhaps later, when the moment was right, I’d test it out..
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