Adrenaline surged through her body. Her heart began to race. To pound. Harder even than before. She gripped the far side of the desk and let out a lon... slow moan that trailed into a high pitched squeal. Not of pain. But of pleasure. She had done it. She looked at herself in the mirror and saw the mascara tear streaks down her face. Her messy hair and her sweaty bosom pressed against the desk beneath her. She was free. Free of all previous fears and inhibitions. Of every kind of shame that. It took no noticeable effort, either for the "retriever" or the "sender". (Sending memories was so easy now - requiring nothing more than being willing - that at this time we started referring to the two participants as the "retriever" and "owner". "Sender" wasn't appropriate because it misleadingly implied that person had to do something.)Although it was effortless, it wasn't perfect. It wasn't even dramatically better than the last time we'd tested it. The remaining restraint was what I. More

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