I needed some cash and a supermarket. On my way back along the half-mile of crescent beach, blue plastic bag containing the essentials — water, beer and potato chips — in hand, I saw, in the distance, silhouetted against the diamante sparkling of the Pacific as the sun slid into the blessed cool of late afternoon, a lone figure ankle deep in the water. As I passed by I had a feeling that it was Ulla standing there, a Lowry figure incongruously displaced to this beach paradise. I hooked left, away from the water’s edge, moving inland a few yards towards the path back to the hostel. I couldn’t be sure but it looked to me as though the woman was naked, and a ripple of desire shivered through me. I’d seen the distinctly feminine outline of Ulla’s body and, despite her imposing demeanour, imagined what it would be like to lick the salt from between her breasts, to trace a path with my tongue past her navel to finally reach that place between her legs. I wondered: was she smooth or natural. I didn't have to hide what I had become because it was all internal. On the outside, everyone still saw the "old" me.That Wednesday, the last of my enslavement, I arrived at his house in my school uniform and blue autumn jacket feeling nervous and exhausted. I was nervous because he had warned me the day before that I was ready, now, to further my training. And I was exhausted because I had been up until 2am the night before trying to get caught up with homework. All the time I was spending with my master was making me fall behind on my school work and I had resolved the night before to get myself back on track. I'd spent most of the day tired and groggy as a result, but at least it had paid off. I ended up acing a History test and turning in an overdue report I had to do about Saint Thomas of Beckett.Arriving at his house sure woke me up, though. The thought of having my training "furthered" was like a jolt of caffeine to my system. What did it mean? What was he going to do to me?.
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