Roger gasped in fake shockand put a hand to his mouth as he looked around the room. "Oh Madame, zisroom is filthy. I shall get started right away."Roger went to one of the tables and pretended to dust. The room wasn'treally dusty. It was just part of the role playing. As Roger started todust he bent over so that as Michelle watched him, she got a full view ofthe black lacy thong that he was wearing. Roger finished dusting thetable and then went to dust a corner in the ceiling. As he did so, hepretended to not be able to reach. "Here let me help you with that,"Michelle said as she approached her husband. Michelle got really close toRoger and helped guide his hand that was holding the duster into thecorner. As she was helping him, Michelle kept gently brushing Roger'sbehind with her strap-on causing him to giggle."You can do the bed next," Michelle ordered. "Qui, madame," Roger said.Michelle took his hand and as she stepped backwards, she led him to thebed. Once they got to the foot of. The low light was desirable, given the anticipated rite. My mother smiled at me but said nothing. Her pride-filled eyes gave all the approval I needed. She had always been my protector.We all sat on the blankets as my father sang a song and beat his feet around the room. The room was a spartan affair. Like me, I doubted either mother had been in the hut before, but there wasn’t much to the holy hut. It was the ceremony that was impressive. After another song that praised our ancestors my father stopped. My mother put some ingredients next to the bowl on the table for my father. I could see the bowl already had goat milk and crushed leaves in it. He added some crushed seeds, honey, and another mystery liquid.My father swished the bowl and seemed satisfied. “Drink.”He offered it to me first and then to my brides. We all drank the bitter concoction.The bowl remained half full, so Spirit Talker offered the bowl back to me. “Drink.” Once it was empty. He said, “May the fruit of this day.
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