Across the room she hears the door open slowly as He enters. The fine hairs on her sensitive body bristle at the sound. She is afraid to move... for f...ar of angering Him. There is another silence as He stands there gazing down on her perfect body. Her breathing becomes more rapid as He softly touches her belly with the palm of His hand.He finally speaks, "angel, My dear, please do not fear Me." Then silence falls again.She lies very still, awaiting His next move. He takes the gag out of her. Her friends and colleagues called her Frankie now. She had a job as a project manager in a design firm, had rented her first apartment, and was dating someone her father would disapprove of if he were to know. Her mother would probably secretly envy her not carrying on the example that she herself had set of being entirely conventional. Frances had met him because her firm was designing a new restaurant. Everyone called him by his family name, Mancini, but his name was John, Gianni really. He. It didn't feel like any indigestion I'd had before.The next door along was a meeting room. I lurched to it and pushedinside then leaned against the desk, trying to catch my breath. I feltawful and the feeling was growing, spreading up my back.I was in serious trouble. I needed an ambulance, now! But when I reachedfor the door again and tried to call for help, all that came out was ahoarse scratching; not even words.I retched, a lump filling my oesophagus, then I retched again. I bentover,. “Youdidn’t much embarrass me much at all. I work as an exoticdancer so I’m actually kind-of used to it. …just notquite to that extent.”I turned away out of embarrassment, thinking about himperforming as an exotic dancer, gyrating his hips in thebuff, naked, up on a stage, and with a hundred screamingwomen all around. I am sure HE would be the mainattraction of any show. I found myself tempted to askwhere he worked. I wanted to go to take a look.