Her touch was surprisingly comforting, and I leaned towards her, hungry for contact ... any contact. Her fingers gently brushed the hair off my forehe...d, and her voice soothed some of the disturbance rioting through my soul. “Are you going to speak? Or are you one of those deprived monks that hide out in caves and eat crickets, and moths, and things?”That made me smile.Her voice raised an octave in pitch, and many decibels in volume. “You actually smiled! Tommy Morrison can smile.” She held her. She made to get up. I grabbed her wrists. "Sit down, my love." Love?" She looked surprised. "You can't love me, Pete, I'm not the sort of girl who does love. I just do it for money."It was my turn to look worried."So the last few days?" I asked, "You have been doing it for money?" Well no. I do like you. You're different. You're kind, and gentle and nice. You're different." So?" The future? In a few days we have to go back to work, you and me." Me, yes. After the New Year I'll go back. But you. "Well, Anita is a bit different. She's as cold as they come. Oh, she talks the talk all right, when she's trying to seduce a man. But Anita never gets out of control. And Anita always looks after Anita, first, last, and always. So what I would suggest is to put her in a situation where she's completely subjugated. Where she first loses control over her body, then over her emotions and will. I'd reduce her to slavery, in such a way that she becomes a laughingstock-even an embarrassment-to her. I’m sorry though maybe tonight or something.” I said softly. She pouted and began to refasten her shirt. Damn why were they back so early? They were supposed to be home tomorrow afternoon, I thought to myself. “Oh and what was that about last night huh?” she asked with a smile on her angelic face. “What?” “The ‘your cunt is mine whore’ thing?” She said with a near perfect imitation of my voice. “You were asking for it,” I laughed. “And besides it is, isn’t it?” “Mhm.” She bit her.