I’m sorry, just let me go…” I hear the tears on the other end of the line but it’s not enough to force my sympathies. “I swear to you Maggie... I swear that by the end of the week that I will go out and fuck a random girl. You say you love me? Prove it. Stop me. You know how.” Don’t you just love a guys bargaining skills? “Ethan do what you want. It’s not my concern anymore” The line goes dead as I whisper my last “I Love You” into the receiver. My anger was so intense that I threw my cell across. Then I realise that I know them - or, rather, him. During my time at college, one of my fellow students was a South African hunk called Samson Djubuthi. He was, in fact, a real Zulu prince, and I remember him coming to one Halloween party in his traditional tribal outfit. It was strangely chorus-girl like, with fluffy shin guards and armlets, a number of ostrich feathers and some beads, and nothing much else but a short skirt of leather strips, leaving his thighs and torso bare. Seriously. The end of the hallway she was running towards had a security door though. There wasn't time to get through it, it may as well have been a dead end. She realized she was going to die. She held up her arms to brace her sudden stop against the door, then spun around and dropped to the floor, arms still up in an instinctual protective position even though they weren't going to do any good. The werewolf was right in front of her now, she saw it pounce, leaping into the air with sharp claws forwards. "Come around here and write down your address so I can pick you up at 7:00 PM". She walked around to my side of the desk and took the pen and paper that I offered. As she wrote I slid my hand along the outside of her thigh, touching her silky smooth skin. I could feel her tense up as I touched her.When she finished writing her address she turned to face me. Her tits were level with my face as I sat in my chair. My hands came up to cup her tits, feeling their fleshiness and their weight before.
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