“TELL ... ME ... YOUR ... NAME!” I demanded again speaking very distinctly. Henri’s entire body shook with the effort he exerted to keep from an...wering the question.“Henri ... Pierre ... Destouches,” he finally answered in a panting breath after several more minutes.“Where were you born?” was my next question, and it too required several minutes and more sweat to receive an answer.“Paris, France,” he finally answered. The interrogation continued for several more simple questions so the truth. She was lying in a fetal position in the end of tub with the water raining down on her, continuously. Without a second thought, John stepped into the tub and knelt over her. The water was ice cold. She was sobbing silently. John reached back to the faucet and turned off the water, then sat down in the tub and once again collected her in his arms just as he had done at the motel. After a few minutes, the sobbing slowed and when it did, he could feel her shivering. There was no way to know how. Despite the fact that he hated her with an unreasonable passion simply because she was there, he took in her shape, man is programmed to check out anything remotely looking female. The red dress clung to her; unfortunately her figure didn’t do the dress justice. The tight dress showed up the spare motorcycle tyres she had stuffed around her body. Somehow she managed to make the dress with its plunging neckline and high hemline, the deeper red tights, and the bright red shoes look elegant rather. Her tongue felt so good. As she licked, I looked around the room and thought about all the times we played with our Barbie’s, danced around to pop music, giggled, gossiped and all the great times we had in this room. This moment topped all of them. As I looked around the room, I soon realized that we were both absorbed in pleasing each other that neither of us noticed that her dad was standing in the doorway with a stunned look on his face. The bulge in his pants was evidence that he loved what.