I rinsed them under cold running water, swiped them out with paper towels and grabbed the bottle. I returned to the living room to find Shania standin... as I had left her, looking out the window into the street. I uncorked the bottle and poured two fingers into a glass for her and held it out. Her delicate fingers wrapped around it. She held it, waiting for me to pour my own portion. When I completed that task, I set the bottle on the low coffee table. “To new beginnings,” she said, in a voice. However, to rip them away to the life of a slave was not my idea of a 'fun' time, regardless of age, and these two had not even had such a chance yet.All the excuses one could make were running through my mind; that they had a 'shit' life already, that French laws were different as to consensual sex and I was more than willing to have them be a part of my life, with Marcia's help. There was an over-riding issue about this. I believed it, slavery to be wrong. We, as a firm, had fought with the. More

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