Once she got over her initial vexation at choosing yet another morality tale – she was beginning to doubt that modern authors other than Austen actu...lly knew it was possible to just write a good story – she found the work quite agreeable. Rose was pleased to discover that the protagonist’s journey involved a great deal of fucking, although she was frustrated that none of it was described. Moll careened from husband to husband, always looking for an angle, always dallying with penitence before. ” Paige took another look at her guest. She was older than she first thought, maybe late thirties, about ten years older than her own twenty-eight. She had on shorts and a V-neck top, both tight, and white tennis shoes. She looked cute and sexy, and carried herself as if she knew it and liked it that way. She had a dark tan, as if she sunned constantly, and her blonde hair was so sun-bleached as to be almost platinum.“As tempting as the wine sounds, how about the coffee? You can put that away. ?" I said."You're kidding, right? I can find out anything, Victor; the world's an open book, really. Bartenders, beauty salon workers, braggarts at the gyms: it was a piece of cake. They're dead meat, Victor. How dead will be your choice," he said."Sweet Jesus," I said. My bud took on a look, maybe tentative."Preston?" I said, reacting to his look."A friend of yours is one of her playmates, Victor," he said."A friend of mine?" Yeah, you do his taxes like you do mine," he said. He paused. I. See? Don't put the leather over the chafed marks. We don't want to see bone."The grotesque command made the teen shiver. What was worse was the finishing touch--the attachment of the leather thong around her ankles. She was bound once more, sitting in a chair that somehow reminded her of those pictures of electric chairs in Sing Sing.Betty was next. Annette watched as some boys scooped her mother easily off the floor and put her in the chair facing her.The teen stiffened. The girl watched with.