He had taken a line from one of my poems that ended with, "…Never ever think you aren't the man I want forever." Although I stood before him naked, ...he soft exterior was now covered with chain mail, as he had empowered me to confirm our continued unification, to take ownership of him. I wore the beautiful figure hugging chain mail dress to display my sexy female outline, bits of flesh interspersed with heavy metal, and an external protection to mimic the confidence I possessed inside. I was. I knew she wouldn't let that slide. When she stopped me in the hall, I was prepared. "Why the hell are you so happy, you damn pervert?" "Oh, that's an easy one: Soon I will never have to see your face again,” I shot back. She leered at me, the cogs turning in her twisted little mind. She was like a vulture trying to find ways to make me suffer a painful death. She stomped off in the direction of the year book committee. I had her. She knew I was on the committee. She also knew I appeared to. More

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