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Calm as can be, you're one cool customer. You pull down your fly and take out your flaccid brown cock. The jet of hot urine hits me square in the face. You direct the hard stream into my staring eyes, my open mouth is rinsed with your foamy piss. And there's still enough to soak my torn blouse, my hair, what's left of my shredded panties, my silk stockings.What difference does it make? I have to keep asking myself this question: what difference does it make? Because, at least at first, it's hard to dissociate whatever is speaking here from that poor abused body on the floor. You crush out your cigarette on the tiled wall and drop the butt where I lay sodden in a puddle of your piss.?You take care now sweetheart.?You say it with a sneer, of course, not letting your priestly mask down for even an instant, not even now that I'm dead, and can't see the real man behind the mask of the rapist-murderer. But I can't help but wonder if you don't, deep-down, feel even a little remorse for what. Leah was pale, her hair hanging limply, soaked in sweat. I took her hand and she looked up, responding to me by almost squeezing my hand off. "It hurts." she whispered, closing her eyes. I looked at the doctor and she held up both hands twice. Twenty minutes, or maybe less.The contractions got closer, and she started to wail. "This is all your fault," she screamed, causing funny looks from the people in the room. "If you hadn't worked your magic, this wouldn't be happening. Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU!!!" She screamed the last at ear shattering level, and Catherine Victoria entered the world. Leah collapsed, exhausted.They cleaned her, and offered her to me. "Want to hold your granddaughter?" I wanted to more than anything in the world, so they handed her to me. I looked at the tiny body, almost overcome by my emotions. Leah stirred, and I gently lay her child in her arms. She held it, looking down in awe. The baby cried, and she immediately dropped her gown down a bit, offering.
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