I was fascinated as I listened to him talk with that wonderfully soft, cultured English accent of his. His manner of speech is smooth and creamy, not ...he harsh, jarring type you might hear sometimes. Sitting there, I felt as if his words were wrapping themselves around me like a comforting cocoon. He had me mesmerized. I sat on the couch with one leg pulled up, my arms encircling it, the fingers of my hands laced together, facing him. Mark’s left hand reached out and touched my right cheek,. "Mother?" I enquired, confused.There were subtle differences between the last time she appeared and this one that was walking towards me. For one thing, Mother used to glide serenely in the mist, refusing exaggerated feminine swings, but definitely still female. This one walks with a purpose and demands attention, with the click clack of her heels and the swings of her hips.A voice echoed from around me, tinged with sexual appeal and dripping with a powerful desire, "Yes, my child. How long it. More

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