Squirting Through My Yoga Pants
‘I heard she’s magnificent,’ his date whispered into his ear as the conductor slipped away from his microphone, allowing all eyes to settle upon Ms. Leonard. As she bowed to the appreciative crowd, Nathaniel Howe began to squirm in his chair. Mozart. The child prodigy he was compared to growing up. Howe’s medium was not the piano, the harpsichord, the violin, or the flute. His was the guitar. He composed his first song at four, gave his first concert at eight, and by 10, was touring worldwide. He loved music, it was his only friend. But his parents, two people that used his talent to their benefit, poisoned him. Whenever he had moments of doubt, they would berate him, telling him that Mozart was self-assure, he never second thought his own talents. They stole his childhood, robbed him from experiencing bruised elbows, scraped knees, fistfights, and catching fireflies in the summer with friends. He had no friends, except for those his parents allowed in the house. And then, those. Now you hardly ever saw any of those three alone.I couldn’t be certain yet but I suspected that I was pregnant. Certainly my period should have begun by now — a couple days ago, I had been regular for years. The idea left me feeling very mixed, I loved Nallen — Aneeka too — of that I had no doubt but I had spent so many years cutting myself off from such thoughts I had never really considered being a mother. I knew Nallen desired children, he had told me that directly our first day together. Part of it was also how little time we had been together, I knew on Earth — at least in the US in professional circles — the tendency had been for couples to be together for years before considering children.Mom finally couldn’t stand it anymore. She had left Daddy with Debbie back at the nice little house Nallen had arranged for their use before tracking me down in the Counsel library. She had such a weird look on her face, something like anger but I know that’s not quite right either.“I need to.
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