Joanne's voice again. I turned and in a daze followed her out of the room. In the fetish bdsm stories living room, I paused and looked at Marie, sitting in front of the TV. She turned and glared at me, and I walked out of the room silently. As I opened the door to the cab, I heard Joanne's voice say "Thursday night. 8:30. Don't be late." She walked back in the bdsm art house. The nerve of that bitch I thought, unconsciously placing my hand over my bandaged shoulder, wincing at the pain. "Hey buddy, let's go! I don't have all night." Of all the cab driver's in Northern Virginia, and I have to get one that speaks English. As I walked into my hou continue...
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