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I had good memories of the place, and I looked forward to renewing old acquaintances at the Temple.I bid a fond farewell to Jenny; we had a very pleasant last gallop, and I think she was sorry to see me go. As I led my company along the road to Devizes I wondered if Sarah Paylin, the kitchen maid at the Anchor Woody Allen had been galloping, had been left with a bun in her oven. Jenny had said nothing, and Woodrow was marching along looking quite unconcerned, so I assumed there were no worries on that score.There was a small ceremony at Devizes town hall before the battalion marched out. The mayor said a few words, to which Sir Edmund replied. During this exchange of pleasantries there were several swollen bellied young women crying, and several stony faced privates in the ranks staring rigidly to their front, and thereby ignoring them.At last, Sir Edmund gave the order. “Advance the colours!”The ensigns, with the standards flying, and accompanied by the colour sergeants, marched to. I sat down and thought for a while. I could be so very near that ass. All I had to do was dial her number. I could taste the pussy I had had so many fantasies about. I could become an extension of her body. What a body. I could have it all, in a perverted sense. All I had to do was dial the number. I had dreamed of her feminine scent. I had dreamed of the taste of her urine. I had even fantasized about the taste of all of her body waste. I am so sick, I thought. Not of body, of mind. Now Jessica knew. She would never think of me in any other way again. Everytime we met she would always see the man who asked to be her toilet. I sat there a long time. I came to the conclusion I could either call her, or commit suicide. Was there a real difference. One would be long, the other short. I went back to my motel room. I went to bed but did not sleep. The fantasy of my being Jessica's slave had a whole new meaning. Did I really want this? Could I really do it? It must be the most awful thing.
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