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From: Lazlo Zalezac <lzalezac@yahoo.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Harry and Silva 02 (MF, magic)
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Date: Sun, 20 Feb 2005 18:10:02 -0500
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=====
Lazlo Zalezac
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Lazlo_Zalezac
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Lazlo_Zalezac


		
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Do you Yahoo!? 
The all-new My Yahoo! - What will yours do?
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<1st attachment, "harry-silva-02.txt" begin>

JC: Harry and Silva
Chapter 2
By
Lazlo Zalezac
Copyright (C) Lazlo Zalezac, 2004

Silva sat at the computer entering data from the forms that had 
been filled in by hand by emergency workers in the field. She 
wasn't exactly a fast typist, but she was productive enough and 
getting faster. Sitting back after clearing the last of the pile of 
forms that had been handed to her, she relaxed and took a sip of 
her lunch through a straw. A grimace crossed her face at the act. 
She hated drinking all of her meals and couldn't wait until she 
could eat normally again.

Later that day, she was supposed to go to the hospital for them to 
work some more on her jaw. Although she wanted to get over her 
medical problems, it would be a couple of days before she would 
return to her job and that bothered her. She actually looked forward 
to coming to work in the morning. For the first time in her life she 
felt like she was part of something that was bigger and more 
important than she was. 

Her officemate smiled at her and said, "Today's the day, isn't it?"

Silva nodded and looked over at the woman at the desk next to 
hers. Her name was Carla and, like Silva, she had an ugly brutal 
past. The woman had been shot in the spine during a drive-by 
shooting when she was a teenager. Now her body was dead from 
the waist down and confined to a wheel chair. Silva buzzed, "Yes, 
today is the day."

"I'm happy for you," replied Carla. The young woman sighed in 
envy as she added, "Maybe you can find a nice man."

Her words stung Silva like little darts thrown at her soul. Carla had 
just started dating when she had been injured. The problem was 
that she had never experienced a sexual relationship, but had great 
expectations that it would be the most wonderful thing a woman 
could experience. Once she had become paralyzed and sex had 
become impossible for her, she had become obsessed about it. 

Silva had never enjoyed sex and didn't ever want to experience it 
again. To her, it was an ugly business that had become even uglier 
once she had gotten into the trade. In a way, she would have traded 
places with Carla to let the poor young woman enjoy sex while she 
was never tempted again. With bitterness in her voice, she 
answered, "I hope not."

Carla nodded and turned back to her work with tears welling up in 
her eyes. She didn't understand why the other woman was against 
sex. All she wanted was to experience sex just once, but that was 
denied her. Sniffling, she looked between her legs at what she 
considered to be wasted space. She had no feelings below her 
waist. Rubbing all day on her clit would do nothing but raise a 
sore. She knew that, since she had tried to bring herself to orgasm 
in that manner - not once, but many times.  

Dissatisfied with the exchange, Silva turned back to her desk 
feeling bad that she had upset her officemate and knowing that 
there was nothing she could say that the other would understand. 
At that moment, a riot broke out behind her. She turned in time to 
see Harry burst through the door while dropping his staff to the 
floor. Lowering down to one knee, he said, "Tah Dah! Today is the 
day."

"Harry!" buzzed Silva happy to see the Druid. In her excitement, 
she had tried to open her mouth in a shout, which was immediately 
cut off by a sharp pain. It astounded her that he showed up this day 
and that he even knew she was going back into the hospital.

Harry looked around the room and spotted Carla sitting at her 
terminal with eyes reddened by tears. With far more energy than 
one might expect from a sixty-year-old man, he jumped to his feet, 
grabbing his staff in the process, and went over to her desk. 
Looking down at Carla as she sat in her wheelchair, he asked, 
"And who might you be?"

After grabbing a tissue, Carla dabbed at her nose as she answered, 
"Carla."

"So why is Queen Carla so sad?" asked Harry with a concerned 
smile. His head was cocked to one side, reminding Carla of an 
Irish Setter looking at something in puzzlement.

The question puzzled Carla and she asked, "Queen Carla?"

"Oh course, my lady. You are ensconced in your silver throne. 
Who else but a Queen could live so?" Harry bowed and acted as 
though he was a member of a royal court dealing with a member of 
royalty.

"Ah, it's not a throne. It's a wheelchair," answered Carla trying to 
decide if this guy was crazy or if he was making fun of her.

"So modest, too. To pass off her royal throne of silver as little 
more than a wheelchair," retorted Harry like a Shakespearean 
actor. Unable to help herself, Silva laughed at his comment. 

"Are you okay?" asked Carla concerned about the sanity of the odd 
man standing in front of her. This was the first time that anyone 
had ever addressed her wheelchair in such an offhand fashion. 
Others tried to pretend that it didn't exist, usually without success. 
Never had anyone made jokes about it.

"I am fine, but it was you that was in tears when I entered the 
room," answered Harry moving his hand in a swirl that ended with 
him pointing a finger at her. Making an expansive gesture with his 
hands, Harry added, "So I ask my question again. Why is Queen 
Carla so sad?"

"None of your business," answered Carla with far more harshness 
than she had intended. There was no way that she was going to 
discuss her personal problems with the crazy man standing in front 
of her. 

Having been around Harry, Silva believed that he would know 
what to say to the paralyzed woman. In a soft voice, she answered, 
"Carla is upset that she is never going to make love because she is 
paralyzed from the waist down."

Harry spun around to look at Silva as the statement staggered him. 
Turning back to face Carla, he asked, "What has the two things to 
do with each other?"

His question angered Carla as she decided that he was making fun 
of her. Livid, she searched around for something to throw at him. 
All she could find was a tape dispenser, which she tossed in his 
direction, but she missed him by more than four feet. Frustrated 
beyond belief, Carla stared at him and, in an angry voice, 
answered, "I can't feel anything down there, you idiot!"

"So?" asked Harry in a very disarming voice.

Silva was staring at Harry trying to figure out what he was trying 
to tell the other woman. She couldn't believe that he was arguing 
with Carla about her ability, or rather her inability, to make love. If 
anyone should understand her limitations, it should be Carla and 
not Harry.

"How can I make love without feeling anything down there?" 
asked Carla as her voiced edged above a scream.

"You really think that you have to feel something down there to 
make love?" asked Harry, his voice expressing his disbelief that 
anyone should believe such a thing. He shook his head with a very 
sad expression on his face. Looking up at her stunned face, he said, 
"I find it so sad that you believe something so wrong."

That statement hit her like a slap across her face. She turned a 
bright red in reaction and, in righteous indignation, asked, "What 
do you know?"

"I know very little," answered Harry standing in front of her in a 
posture that gave the impression of total honesty and vulnerability. 
"I do know that you have a strong life force beating within your 
body. Where there is life, there is the potential for love. With love 
comes making love. The body has very little to do with it, it is a 
spiritual thing." 

Silva looked at Harry and then at Carla, seeing them both frozen in 
a tableau in which she was the outsider observer. In this little 
exchange, she was learning as much about love as Carla. More 
cocks than she could count had been stuffed in every orifice of her 
body and it astounded her that she knew nothing of love or making 
love. Her throat tightened preventing her from asking her 
questions. 

In a near whimper, Carla asked, "How can you make love if you 
can't feel it?"

Harry stepped forward and knelt in front of Carla while staring into 
her eyes. With an exaggerated slowness of motion, he reached out 
with his right hand and felt the side of her face. His fingers brushed 
against her skin with a gentle teasing touch. His fingers sought out 
and found every nerve on the left side of her face. Unconscious of 
her actions, she leaned her head against his hand enjoying the 
warmth of his touch. Her breathing became jagged as sensations 
that she had never felt shot through the top half of her body. Her 
nipples became erect, demanding to be touched. 

Watching the pair, Silva found her eyes getting moist. Never had 
any man spent so much time touching any part of her body with 
such tenderness. It was obvious to her that Carla was feeling 
sensations that neither women had ever felt before that day. Silva 
had been groped and grabbed by all manners of men, but never 
touched with a loving hand. Her body reacted with a sudden onset 
of wetness between her legs. She tried to imagine that his hand was 
touching her and felt frustrated that she failed. Suddenly, it was 
Carla that was the lucky one.

"Oh my God," moaned Carla as a shudder went through her body. 
It wasn't an orgasm, but it was the most intense feeling that she had 
experienced since becoming paralyzed. If he could do that just by 
touching half of her face, what could he do with the rest of her 
body? 

Harry pulled his hand back and, still looking her in the eye, said, "I 
think your body has enough feeling in it for the right man to make 
glorious love to it."

Touching the side of her face with her hand as if she had 
discovered it for the first time, she replied, "I think you are right."

"Of course, I'm right. I'm Happy Harry," replied the old man with a 
twinkle in his eye as he stood up while holding his hands as if he 
were tugging on suspenders. His pose and tone of voice conveyed 
that he didn't take himself too seriously. 

Carla burst out laughing at the comment and the ease with which 
the tension in the room had been dissipated. She glanced over at 
Silva and said, "Take her out of her and get her fixed up. I think we 
have some gossiping to do when she gets back."

"You order is my command, Queen Carla. Come my dark beauty, 
it is off to the hospital with you," said Harry as he bowed towards 
the door in an invitation to leave. He picked up his staff in the 
midst of the bow.

Silva passed by him disturbed by how he had addressed her as a 
dark beauty. It wasn't a racist remark, but one of praise. The 
problem was that she didn't feel like a dark beauty. She was still 
wearing sack dresses like she had been given in the hospital and 
was wearing her hair up in a scarf. They had hidden her figure and 
her sexuality, both of which she had become ashamed of since her 
beating. It was as though hiding her body was hiding that she was a 
black whore. Instead, she looked like Aunt Jemima, the pancake 
queen. Aunt Jemima didn't make her living sucking cocks in 
strange cars parked in dark alleys.

Harry led her to the truck that was parked in front of the Fusion 
Foundation Center. She noticed that the silver sides of the truck 
had been painted. Someone had painted picture of a Hobo carrying 
a bindle on a stick with the name, Happy Harry, beside it. She 
rather liked the picture and wondered who had done it. After 
holding the door and making sure that she was comfortable in her 
seat, Harry went around to the driver's side. Climbing in, he said, 
"Hold on, cause this thing rocks worse than a dingy in a 
hurricane!"

It wasn't long before they were headed out to the hospital. Silva 
said, "That was a nice thing you did for Carla."

"'Twas a little thing. It was all that I could do under the 
circumstances," remarked Harry with a shrug. 

Silva was silent for a moment as she thought about what he 
considered to be a little thing. He had just given a woman her 
sexuality back to her with a single touch. It reminded her of 
something that had happened the first time that she had been in the 
truck. She said, "That day when you picked me up from the 
hospital, there was a guy with cancer who told you that he was 
going to die. Do you remember that?"

"Of course. That was Jim Henderson," replied Harry as he looked 
over at her. He was curious find out what she wanted to know 
since she hadn't really talked to the man.

"When you asked him what he wanted to do before he died, he said 
that he wanted to see his kids." Trying to talk so much was 
frustrating, but at least he understood her. 

"Yes, that's right."

"What happened to him?"

Harry maneuvered the truck into the left turn lane before 
answering, "I helped him get into a nice Hospice Care Center in 
Kansas City. It took a little time, but I tracked down his children. 
He had two sons and a daughter. One of his sons and his daughter 
came to see him there. He died a couple of days after their visit. He 
went real gentle in his sleep."

"You were there?"

Making the left turn, the truck leaned to the point where it almost 
tipped over and then rocked back. Once through the turn, he 
answered, "No. I was in Los Angeles around the time he died. The 
staff told me all about it when I stopped by Kansas City on the way 
here."

The truck was swaying so much that she felt as if she was going to 
get carsick. She declared, "This thing is dangerous."

"Nah. I like it. It reminds of the old days when trains were really 
trains. Those boxcars used to sway from side to side as the train 
rolled down the tracks. It was comforting for a young boy on the 
rails," replied Harry with a melancholy grin. 

"Boxcars?" asked Silva wondering what he was talking about.

"Yeah, boxcars. I grew up riding in boxcars with my mommy and 
daddy. That was back in the late forties and the world was a lot 
different then. There weren't that many Hobos left even then. 
When W-W-Two broke out, lots of them joined the army or were 
able to get jobs in factories. Most of the Hobos were just regular 
Joe's that had lost everything in the great depression. Of course, 
losing everything will make most men bitter. Lots of them did 
some pretty awful things to get by, but there were a bunch of good 
folks too."

Silva asked, "Wasn't that dangerous?"

"Yeah, I guess so. Getting on and off the trains was tricky. If you 
fell while getting on, it was likely that you would end up under the 
wheels. Not a good place to be and tended to leave red spots on the 
countryside. Getting off meant jumping from the moving train 
before it pulled into the station. Land wrong and you'd break an 
ankle if you were lucky and your neck if you weren't."

Harry paused as he pulled into the hospital parking lot. As he 
drove around looking for a space that was large enough for the 
lunch truck, he continued, "Of course, the biggest danger was 
getting caught by the men that worked for the railroad. They would 
beat a man to an inch of his life when they caught someone. This 
scar across my forehead was the result of an axe handle." 

She had listened in shock at the stories of the dangers that he had 
faced during childhood. It was a miracle that he was still alive, 
much less a happy man that missed those times. She buzzed, 
"Sounds horrible."

"Not at all." Finding a spot, Harry pulled into it and turned off the 
motor. Turning to look at her, he said, "We're here."

Silva followed Harry into the hospital. The closer she came to the 
reception desk, the more nervous she got. She was approaching the 
moment of truth and would learn soon if her jaw had healed. 
Despite assurances to the contrary, she feared that she would live 
the rest of her life with her jaw locked shut. 

Seeing her tension, he asked, "So do you ever hum?"

A throaty chuckle burst loose as she nodded her head. Ever since 
that day in the aquarium she would hum whenever she was feeling 
down. At first it had bothered her officemate, but now they both 
had a tendency to hum while working. 

He said, "That's good. You got to find songs for all occasions. 
Songs for expressing when you're happy. Songs for cheering you 
up when you're down. Most important of all, you have to find a 
song for when you're afraid."

"Hmm?" asked Silva.

"Oh yes. Those are the songs you'll sing for yourself. Then you 
have to learn songs for others. Songs to put a baby to sleep, to 
challenge men to great deeds, and to woo the opposite sex." He 
threw his head back in an easy laugh and repeated, "Definitely, you 
have to learn the songs to woo the opposite sex."

Even though she wasn't sure that she wanted to woo a man, Silva 
laughed to hear him talk. It was a surprise when she turned and 
found that she was at the reception desk with a stack of forms 
already filled out. Her nervousness was gone as she continued to 
chuckle about his use of the word woo. She listened as Harry said, 
"You're checked in. They'll take care of you now." 

"Thanks, Harry," replied Silva wondering how she could ever 
thank him properly. 

"Don't mention it," said Harry as he held up his hands in protest. 
She nodded her head in understanding. Reaching out and holding 
her hand, he said, "You'll be okay. I've got to head out and see who 
else might need a little smile."

"Okay," she said as she pulled him into a hug. He returned the hug 
with energy. His strong arms around her body felt good and 
comforting. She wondered if she would ever find a good man that 
would love her and her alone. The though made her wonder what 
she was thinking. Whores didn't end up that way.

Stepping away, he said, "Give my regards to Queen Carla."

She laughed and nodded her head. The nurse led her away as Harry 
walked out of the hospital. On his way, he paused and talked to 
another person making their way to the front desk. She turned back 
to look at him, shook her head in amazement, and wondered what 
kind of magic could create a man like him. 

The hospital bed had been uncomfortable the first day in the 
hospital, but by the third day it was torture to stay in it. Silva 
wanted to get out, but the doctors still hadn't cleared her. Not 
working had given her far too much time to think and her thoughts 
tended to be depressing. Her jaw, still a little stiff, was working 
although talking was surprisingly tiresome. She didn't have 
dentures yet and it gave her face the look of an old woman. Her 
lips kept flopping over her gums since they didn't have the support 
of teeth to keep them normal. The effect was to render her speech 
almost unintelligible. 

One of the doctors entered the room carrying a small box. Handing 
it to her with a smile, he said, "Try these and see what you think."

Puzzled, she opened the little box and found a pair of dentures in 
it. She took them out of the box and slipped them in her mouth 
surprised that they fit perfectly. Working her mouth from side to 
side testing her dentures, she found that they didn't slide or 
anything. Of course, she would need to use some denture cream to 
fix them in place for things like eating. In the past, she seldom had 
bothered with that since she would often slip them off when giving 
a john a blowjob. She smiled and said, "They're perfect."

"Good," replied the doctor as he checked her jaw. He made the 
normal hums and hahs that all doctors make when examining 
patient. Her speech sounded normal and that was a good sign. 
Standing back, he said, "After you eat a meal using your new 
dentures, we'll release you."

"Thank you!" Silva was nearly on the verge of tears when she 
caught sight of herself in a mirror. This day was too long in 
coming. She could talk and sound like a real person again. Her face 
looked normal with lips that smiled and moved naturally. She still 
had a few bandages, but they were minor.

"It's nice to see you smiling," answered the doctor. As he removed 
the last few bandages, he said, "I'm going to prescribe some 
calcium for you. I'd like to see you take it regularly. It might be 
possible that we can go to dental implants."

"Implants?" 

"Sure," replied the doctor. He added, "A young woman like 
yourself shouldn't have to live with dentures."

Stunned by the suggestion of dental implants, she sat in the bed not 
caring that it was hard and uncomfortable. The idea that she could 
have a natural looking smile without having to put in dentures was 
beyond her wildest dreams. Whores didn't have dental implants, 
only rich folks had them. She didn't even notice when the doctor 
left the room. 

Lunch came and she consumed it, eating with far greater relish 
than she ever remembered approaching a meal. The foods were 
soft since it would be a while before she could eat harder foods. 
Her gums were tender and the muscles in her jaw weak. Still, if felt 
good to have something a little more solid than pureed food in her 
mouth. Even hospital Jell-O was a treat in the sense that it had a 
real texture to it. 

After finishing the meal, she realized that she wanted to announce 
her happiness to the world, but screaming and shouting was not the 
right way to do it. The best way was through song. As she 
wondered what kind of song would be appropriate for sharing the 
happiness she felt, it dawned on her that Harry was right about her 
needing to find music for different occasions. 

After an attendant came and removed the food tray, she was ready 
to leave and get back to work. There were so many things that she 
wanted to discuss with Carla. The first step to leaving was to get 
dressed and towards that end she went to the closet to get her 
clothes. The closet was completely empty. Staring at it in 
confusion, she wondered what kind of jerk would steal a person's 
cloths in a hospital.

A sound behind her startled her and she spun around to hide her 
panty-covered ass. Her reaction surprised her since she had worn 
much more revealing clothes on the street. The days in the hospital 
had exposed her more than that. It was a shock when she realized 
that the person standing behind her was Ms. Clements, her 
supervisor. "Oh, hello. I didn't expect anyone to come."

Smiling at the idea that they would forget about her being here, 
Ms. Clements held out a box and said, "This was delivered for 
you."

Surprised, Silva reached out and took the box. Opening it, she 
looked inside to find a complete outfit. It was a black and white 
business suit with all of the appropriate accompaniments. This 
included sexy panties, bra, and hose designed to make her feel 
sexy but look prim. Her lower lip trembled as she looked at the 
pair of simple heels at the bottom of the box. She looked up and 
asked, "Who?"

"Harry."

Numb, she stared at the dress as tears started to flow. Silva backed 
to the bed unable to see her way and sat down when she felt the 
edge of it against her buttocks. It was the most beautiful outfit that 
she had ever held in her hands. It was conservative, but suggestive 
at the same time. Her hands trembled as she looked up at her 
supervisor. Throat swollen with emotions that she didn't know she 
had, she was barely able to speak when she said, "Help me."

"Pardon?"

"Help me put it on," cried Silva as tears flowed down her cheeks. 

The elderly woman closed the door to the room and helped Silva 
dress. It was a strange experience for Ms. Clements to dress an 
adult woman who seemed as helpless as a toddler. Standing behind 
the black woman, Ms. Clements frowned as she looked at the 
ribbons of thin scars that ran across Silva's back. It took her a 
minute to recognize that they were the result of being whipped 
with coat hangers sometime in the distant past. It was hard to keep 
from commenting on them, but she had learned from years of 
working with people in the Fusion Foundation not to ask questions 
about the past. There were a lot of hurt people that worked for her 
that were slowly healing.

Once she was dressed and had composed herself, Silva tried to find 
a mirror that would let her see what she looked like in the outfit. 
Unfortunately there wasn't a full-length mirror in the room. 
Anxious to get an honest opinion of how she looked, she turned to 
Ms. Clements and asked, "How do I look?"

"Silva, you look like a million dollars," replied the woman in a 
tone of voice that bordered on awe. The transformation achieved as 
a result of putting on the dress had been remarkable. The Aunt 
Jemima who used to work for her was gone having been replaced 
by a strong capable-looking businesswoman. Silva even stood up 
straighter and moved with more grace. 

The black woman stood in the center of the room for a minute as 
she considered what she was about to do. The time had come to 
undo some of the damage of the past. It took time for her to make 
the decision and even longer before she was ready to announce it. 
Taking a deep breath, she said, "My real name is Silvia. I think I 
would like to go by that now."

"Okay, Silvia."

"Do you know when I can go?"

The elderly woman gave her a soft smile and said, "You're already 
checked out and can leave anytime you want. I suggest that we 
stop and buy some makeup before we return to work."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. I think it would be fun, don't you?"

Silvia smiled and took the other woman by the arm as she headed 
towards the door. There was so much for her to learn now. She 
realized that she didn't know how to buy makeup that wasn't 
whorish and said, "Yes, I do. You might have to help me. I don't 
have much experience with makeup."

"That's okay, dear. Lots of women think they know about makeup, 
but most of them use all the wrong colors," replied Ms. Clements 
as they stepped out of the hospital room.

Silvia stepped into her office and looked at her officemate. The 
young woman in the wheel chair looked different to her somehow. 
It was as though someone had drained years of tension from her 
and she sat there relaxed for the first time in ages. She didn't know 
if it was because of the little session with Harry or if something 
else had happened, but the girl positively glowed. Carla looked up 
and, in a very proper manner, asked, "Could I help you ma'am?"

Silvia couldn't help laughing at the fact that Carla didn't recognize 
her, but understood the reason why. When she had seen herself in 
the mirror, she hadn't recognized herself. She answered, "Ma'am? 
Since when did your officemate become a ma'am?"

Carla's mouth dropped open as she squealed, "Is that you, Silva?"

"Yes it is, but could you maybe call me Silvia from now on?" 

"Wow, talk about a major change! You're beautiful," remarked 
Carla as she looked over her officemate. There weren't words that 
could express her shock at the difference that three days had made. 
This beauty had replaced the sullen quiet woman that had hunched 
over her computer for hours at a time.

Brushing off the compliment, Silvia replied, "I notice that you're 
looking a little different now. There's a kind of glow about you. 
What's up?"

Carla blushed and looked down at her lap. She stammered, "Well. 
After Harry, uh, I kinda. Well, you know."

"You didn't?" asked Silvia as she realized what had happened. 
Carla had found herself a lover. 

"Yes, I did. Is it so obvious?"

"You are glowing girl!" said Silvia with a grin. Feeling giddy as a 
schoolgirl learning about some adult secret, she went over to her 
chair and sat down. Turning to face Carla, she said, "Details. I 
want details."

"After you left, I was really very excited."

"Excited?" asked Silvia wondering if that was the correct word.

"Okay, I was horny. This body of mine was feeling things I didn't 
know it could," answered Carla, her blush glowing brighter. She 
lowered her voice as she said, "I found Tim. You know, he's the 
guy upstairs who sits on a throne like me."

"Tim?" asked Silvia knowing exactly whom it was that she was 
talking about. He had lost both legs in an accident. It never dawned 
on her to think of him in a sexual way.

"Yes, King Tim," giggled Carla sounding a lot younger than her 
twenty-five years of age. "We start to talk and I tell him about 
what Harry did. Next thing you know, his clothes and my clothes 
are gone."

"You didn't? Right here in the office building?" asked Silvia 
shocked at the behavior of her officemate. It was outlandish, but a 
perfect beginning for Carla's explorations for her newly discovered 
sexuality. 

"We did. His thing works and quite well if I'm any judge." That 
afternoon had been her first time to see a cock in real life. It had 
fascinated her and after touching it, she had been surprised when 
he came. After that, she didn't want to leave it alone. 

Silvia smiled at Carla. She was happy that the young woman had 
finally had the experience that she had been wanting for so long. 
From the glow, she guessed that Carla had enjoyed the experience. 
She leaned forward and asked, "So how was it for you?"

"It was glorious. I don't know if what I experienced is an orgasm, 
but I was sure that I had died and gone to heaven. When he started 
licking my breasts, fireworks exploded," answered Carla. She 
blushed again recalling the scream that she had released at the 
time. They'd had to act fast when others knocked on Tim's office 
door concerned about the noises that had emerged from the room.  

"I'm so happy for you," replied Silvia. She had said it in total 
honesty without any jealousy or envy. The young woman had 
found the happiness that she had been seeking. It gave her hope 
that there was a chance for her.

"Thanks," answered Carla. She smiled and asked, "So how's 
Harry?"

Silvia laughed and said, "He's traveling somewhere. The last thing 
he said to me was to give Queen Carla his regards."

"He's an odd man, but I like him."

Sighing as she remembered listening to him telling his stories and 
singing his songs, Silvia said, "He's a great wise man. I'm lucky to 
have met him."
<1st attachment end>


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