If Blake had to sum Jenny up in a word, that word would be "homesick". She was not a person whose psyche fed on glamour, on adulation, on roaring crow...s. Home, back in Spearfish Lake, represented a happier time, a happier life. The high point of her week came each Thursday, when the Spearfish Lake Record-Herald arrived, via next-day air -- the only copy of the paper sent out like that. Jenny devoured it, cover to cover, everything in it -- even the legals, the obituaries, the ads for used. She’d heard that women performed lurid acts upon a stage here. “Please, Mistress.” She’d pleaded earlier that evening. “I want to watch. Perhaps I will learn something new!” I laughed at that, carried away by her charming enthusiasm despite myself. “I find it hard to believe that there is anything under the stars that you have not already learned, pet.” I replied with a fond kiss. And so we found ourselves seated before a curtained stage, her hands in her lap, rubbing herself through her. More

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