She died a little every-time he looked at

She died a little every-time he looked at her after that. Filling herself up with guilt and self-hatred.

She didn't have to feel that way, she knew. But she really enjoyed languishing in misery and pain, in a masochistic kind of way. And that self pity that usually came every time she

got off like that.She paused the DVD and put her robe away along with all hope of finding that special someone who would attend to her special needs.She got in the shower and some

how washed away her tears along with with the sand between her toes from walking along the beach...alone. Standing there under the shower,she suddenly realized she was not alone.

A largish octopus beheld her and it tentacles tentatively tickled her toes. Bold yet bashful was its romantic foray. She forgot her sadness as it offered a mother-of-pearl inlayed

rings. His overt octopod overtures made her want to reciprocate. She bought him a set of eight abalone armbands. Her gelatinous beau blushed, then fastened his suction cups to her

face and brought his beak closer to hers in an octopod version of a French kiss. The taste of brine and the lingering marks of his suckers lasted for weeks, but she didn't care -

she'd known worse. Being snogged by an octopus was a walk in the park compared to that incident with the 3-legged Shetland pony back in the dying hours of the last century. As fire

turns wood to ash so do Shetland ponies turn her libido to disinterest. Ever since they'd acquired the ponies, she'd worn nothing but tee shirts and sweatpants. Her husband