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”“Yeah?” Moralez asked, perking up a little at that.She sat up and patted her furry thigh in invitation, her black skirt riding high on her legs... the impact sending a ripple through her layer of soft fat. Moralez hopped down off the armrest and made his way over to her, Kaisha lifting him once he was range and planting him in her lap. She was like a giant, living armchair. Her thighs were as soft as down pillows beneath him, and her breasts cradled his head through the fabric of her sweater,. I finally had to admit that the poems probably made a lot more sense in the original Persian, but that I did not know the language.We had been sitting like that for about fifteen minutes when Jenny appeared in the doorway to the room. Her eyes were red from crying and she wore a threadbare robe of mine that I had left behind when I packed up to move out. She made no attempt to break up the storytelling, and leaned against the doorway silently watching until I reached the point where Scherezade. More

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