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All day I had thought of nothing but her, and her body. And so Isaid she must be the manuscript, her body must be, and I, I would be the quill,the writer. She asked me to bind her again, in her own particular way, herhands at her privy parts. I bound her thus. Her own hands touched herself. I turned her over on toher belly. It was something we had both read once in the manuscript. I lita new white candle from the one on the table. I began to drip wax, from a height,into the wounds across her back that a whip had made.... + Have I invented that? That the scene in which wax is dripped on the woundsof the whip derives from the manuscript? I cannot be sure. The dictionary of dreams is all I have beside my bed andit is silent upon this topic. I only know that it seemed like a memory - ashared memory - to myself and Eliza. Shared, yes. Indeed. Mme darkness. + When I arrived home the next night she was still there in my cellar, naked,her skin glowing in the light of the fire she'd. Unless I wanted to of course. As I went home, I thought about the party invite. It had been a while since I had been to a party, an underwear party sounded like fun. So Thursday evening, I called John an said I would come. I only had plain white underwear. So on Friday after school, I went to a store in town that sold sexy underwear. Not knowing much about lingerie, the lady who worked there was very helpful. In the end I picked out a matching set of red lace bra and panties, and some red stockings. Then I bought a bottle of wine, I couldn't come to a party without something for the host. then I took the bus home. On Saturday afternoon, it was time to get ready for the party. I took a quick shower, and went to my room to get dressed. I put on the underwear I had bought, and looked in the mirror. I was standing there in red bra, panties, and stocking. And actually thought I looked sexy. Despite my small breasts, just 34 B. Then I put on a pair of jeans, and a black top. And took the.
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