<div class="floatleft">(https://www.mediafire.com/convkey/76b7/x5nx8e3wrte3v7y6g.jpg)<br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"></span><div align="center"><strong> <span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;">Circe</span></strong></div></div><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 11pt;">Do what the book says?  Truth or Dare with a book.  Different in a way.  Fun, maybe.  And his (giggle) ‘incantation’ seems to reverberate.  <em>Echo, echo, echo</em> (giggle).  <br/><br/><em>"The clothes you wear present a false facade,<br/>Like woven lies your essence they conceal.<br/>A magic spell will peel away the fraud,<br/>And your true nature to the world reveal!"</em><br/> <br/>The prelude to his game idea is his lewd wanting to play with my tits.  Like who wouldn’t?  Can’t get on him for that!  <br/><br/>Quickly in the next breath, his tit suggestion is recast, his suggestion is . . . surprise!  Right!  He's just kidding.  Sure!  Just kidding.  <br/><br/>I don’t feel exactly compelled, but I’m resisting something.  Not clear what it is, I wander away and walk into the kitchen, checking the cookie dough—the big question is why am I resisting?  And what?<br/></span><div align="center">______</div><div class="floatright">(https://www.mediafire.com/convkey/b878/llqs340wr6l12cy6g.jpg)<br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"></span><div align="center"><strong> <span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;">Circe</span></strong></div></div><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 11pt;"> <br/>I walk back out, no longer certain of where we are or what we’re doing.  Playing at magic maybe.  Do what the book says?  That’s what seems to make sense.  And how did I get into this outfit and why am I in this position.  It really does make sense somehow.  I’m a nurse.  I’m Nasty.<br/><br/>I look at Chloe, then Mike, “Chloe? . . . Mike?”  <br/></span>