Music is a moral law. It gives soul to the universe, wings to the mind, flight to the imagination, and charm and gaiety to life and everything else. - Plato
Sitting down on a chair, he draws me on top of his lap. He eases my thighs apart and wraps his legs around my calves, pinning them against the lower section of the chair. Tilting my head, I open my eyes and glance back at him. Grinning, he grabs a blue and silver tie off the little table next to him. He holds it up in front of me.
Wait. Is that the tie from the drawer in the bedroom? He slides the tip of the tie over my body, pulling it up between my legs. When I try to squeeze my thighs together, he pushes his knees out slightly, preventing me from moving.
"Sarah," he says with a low, throaty timber. 'I am glad you recognize the ti
