No, I corrected. That I bought. Every cent my wife spent was my money.These girls were my property. I owned them, and I owned everything that they owned, a thought that made me smile. I was going to have complete control over what they wore from now on. Not that there was anything wrong with their choices so far, of course, but there was something erotic about the level of power I realized I had over them.These girls were mine. Everything they did, everything they wore, everything they ate and thought and said and felt - it was completely under my control.The music played, its throbbing beat filling my ears, filling the room. The girls were already subservient little whores, but I wanted to make sure that they knew our arrangement - that all women needed a master, and that I was theirs.It was clear from the look in their eyes that a part of them wanted me to hurry up, to take my cock out and fill them with it, so that they could start to repay their debt, the debt that we all knew. Girls were scurrying around, chatting excitedly on cell phones. Stealing a moment of intimacy beneath a blooming cherry tree, a cute couple kissed while making love with their eyes.They were all just like me. They were kids struggling to grow up; kids trying to forestall ever having to grow up. Knowing how uncertain we were about the prospect of life beyond the safe cocoon that was our insulated little college world, most of us wanted to hang on to being kids as long as we could.Then it dawned on me that no, most of them probably weren't much like me at all. I'd only just turned eighteen, and already I was throwing myself into the deep end. Things were about to become really intense.Watching the last vestiges of my innocence reflected in the faces of all those carefree students, I thought, 'Welcome to growing up, on stage in New York City. You wanted this, Jennifer, and now you're going to get it.'Wooo, a professional play is nothing like our old school plays.'Hectic' would be the.
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