<div class="floatleft">(http://i65.tinypic.com/30xhdmr.jpg) <br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Georgia;"> </span><div align="center"><strong> <span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 11pt;">Amanda</span></strong> <br/><strong><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 11pt;">Dianne Devotee</span></strong> </div></div><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 11pt;">I look at Danai and roll my eyes.  Vajayjay, keeping her eyes down, offers a lame suggestion of what she ‘thought’—the explanation of ‘why Dianne’.  No!  Never, ever!  I hiss at her again, <em>“that tapping foot means only one thing to you bitch.  Her . . .  foot . . .   tapping . . .   is . . .   your . . .   prompt!  <strong>Do it!  Lick!</strong>”</em> <br/><br/>Mistress says nothing.  Looking.  Foot tapping.<br/></span>