Unfortunately, she contracted some throat disease which all but destroyed her voice. She took it very stoically but it nearly broke my father's heart....Sometimes, when she thought no one was about, she'd sit down at the piano and sing on her own. It was still a sweet voice but a shadow of what it had been. My father used to sit at the foot of the stairs crying like a child." What a tragedy! Are they still alive?" Yes." Did they watch the eisteddfod?" I doubt it because I haven't heard from them.. God, she was luscious. “Turn around,” I said. “I want to see you.” “Yes, Sir,” she said in a soft voice. I devoured her lithe body with my eyes. I touched every bit of her with my gaze, admired her as I would a work of art. “Eyes down.” “Yes, Sir,” she said again. She stared at the floor. Waiting. Not moving, except to breathe. I thought I still detected a hint of a smile. She timidly offered her arms and. More

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