Ahem..down and dirty? Like you like?" She made a very delicate, feminine gesture of a woman squatting to pee."For your birthday, we want to be kinky with you, in the bed of one the queens of it....would you like that?"If you can imagine me without words."But you have to sing a song for us in that dress, Sylvia, do you understand?"Did I understand? I had the song in my head before she posed the question.So there I was, a snotty, bratty little girl, not at all pretty, sixteen, in Edith Piaf's 1948 Oscar gown, in Norma Shearer's bedroom, singing "La Vie en Rose" and twirling around, gesturing with my face and body, as if this was the last song I was going to sing before I faced the Gestapo firing squad, waiting, bored, in the rain-soaked alley behind the theater. In my fantasy, I threw the blindfold they had given me into the gutter, crushed the Gaulois I had been smoking with my high heel into the cobblestones, looked into the eyes of each of my executioners, cursed them for their tiny. My finger lingered over my clit as my sore sexual drive re-awakened. I took a deep breath, and left the shower to go get ready for practice. I quickly grabbed a bite to eat and headed out of my dorm to volleyball practice. Yesterday’s final tryout felt like ages ago, and slut #3 is ready to tackle whatever comes, I thought to myself. I arrived in the change room and feared the worst. But what I found was a complete contrast to yesterday. Upon arriving, a senior greeted me by my real name, and even Cassie asked how I was doing. The complete contrast made me take a step back. There was no way they could go from abusive to…normal? I said good morning to Laurie and Alex, and they smiled back an unsure small. “What’s going on?” I asked them. Laurie shook her head and pulled her shirt over her perky breasts. “I’m not sure, they are acting strangely normal today…” Laurie trailed off as she stared across the change room in thought. After a long pause and a hesitant sigh, “Hopefully we.
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