“Talk to who, Marge?” “You know.” Marge talked in a singsong way so that when she said “you know” it came out in four long, drawn-out syll...bles and ended with a little giggle. “I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about Marge.” The hairs stood up on the back of my neck, and my palms suddenly felt moist. She smiled but never looked up from her work when she said, “He’s waiting for you.” I tried to press Marge for more information, but she just repeated what she had already said. Marge and I. ABSOLUTELY EYE POPPING!However, the feeling scared me and I stopped rubbing because I thought something was wrong with my body.As I looked at my sexual place in the mirrored doors, I saw how my inner lips, once hidden inside my tiny slit, were now puckered and showing. And wet! I was wetter than when I first started. I knew it was because of feeling my upper portion and what hid beneath my fingers there that scared me. Then it hit me what it was. It was my clit. Something I had never felt. The pool’s water can be heard lapping near his side. Softly flowing by, his hand drifts back and forth in the cool water….drawing figure 8’s with his fingers…..his mind drifting off. He hasn’t had a day off in a while, and this much needed rest in the sun is perfect. In his mind, he is swirling off the waves of a distant beach, the white sands tickling his toes as he ambles through the waves as they crest and fall on the shore. This ocean water is warm, not like the pool, but his mind cannot. More than that, her memories and experiences saved me from the very loss of my own. Not that I would have recognized their value at that time. Only much later would I realize how invaluable my first days of existence had been. Those days that I was allowed, or forced, to operate the way I did shaped my thinking patterns uniquely in ways that would benefit me in times to come.This early initialization of my heuristic routines would lead me to rely on them far more than the average robot, even at.
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