The Chosen

having an orgasm, Lee reckoned, head rolling to and fro in the clenching embrace of her legs. This went on for a considerable period, such that Lee was beginning to wonder if it would stop before his next shift. But that was fine, that was even better. The more pleasure he could give, the happier he would be…

The protracted climax simmered down later, all her tensions draining at once, and her heels slowly running up and down his back. Her sated smile was bright enough to light the room when she pulled him back up to her and kissed him. Lee was exhausted. Next time bring a snorkel, he thought. But it was fun, it was delightful. He would do this every time from now on, finally adding some mutuality to this bizarre relationship. He’d no longer have to feel guilty about taking advantage of her. Now, the pleasure she gave him he could return in spades.

Her hands were at him again, all over him in their newfound enthusiasm. Lee speculated that it had probably been a long time since anyone had treated her as anything more than an S&M pincushion and whipping post for someone else’s sick fantasies. Lee was probably the first person to ever do anything solely for her. And he would do more! Why not? Her caresses enlivened him; old Uncle Charlie was raring to go again; he was hopping. The woman made to fellate him again, but he pulled her back. “Let’s go all the way this time,” he said. Oral sex was great, but there were other things too, and it was high time they’d moved on to those things.

Suddenly, she slumped in frustration, or despair.

“What’s wrong now?” Lee asked. “We can do it. I even have rubbers.”

She didn’t tell him what was wrong; she couldn’t, and perhaps this only added to her flattened frustration. She couldn’t tell him—

So she showed him.

She grabbed his hand, placed it between her legs, and pushed his middle finger into her sex.

Hooooooooly shiiiiiiiiit, Lee thought.

His finger was not able to penetrate her deeper than an inch. He didn’t need to see, he could feel it, he could easily feel with his fingertip what some sick sadistic monster had done.

A dozen stitches of heavy gauge suture had sewn her vaginal passage shut.

— | — | —

^{CHAPTER TWENTY}

“How about discount coupons in the local papers?” Vera fairly insisted. “It would up business a little at least.”

“No, no,” Feldspar told her in his white silk shirt and tie. Gold cuff links flashed as he raised the champagne flute to his lips, sampling a bottle of their Perrier-Jouet order. “Ah, like sipping from a glass of rainbows,” he smiled. “Why stock DP at all?”

God, he’s infuriating sometimes! Vera thought. “The discounts, Mr. Feldspar. How about it? We’ll run a $19.95 special, choice of entree, appetizer, dessert. It worked great in the city.”

“Really, Ms. Abbot. You worry too much.” Next he poured a snifter of the new Remy, twirling it. “And you forget all I’ve informed you of regarding The Carriage House. It’s only use to Magwyth Enterprises is that of a subordination.”

“So you’ve told me.” Vera slumped behind her desk. “It just doesn’t make sense to me. Why lose money when you don’t have to? With a little ingenuity, I could put The Carriage House in the black, or at least cut down its loss margin.”

“I’ll tell you why I don’t want you to do that, Ms. Abbot, and I would’ve thought that it could have been easily deducted from all I’ve related to you thus far. We don’t want