"You know," Anita started, staring at me as she did so, "We'vemet before." "Huh?" I frowned. I'd seen her in the hallway, but I was prettysure that I'... never talked to her before. "Last night," Anita continued with a smile. "I was the cat youwere playing cowboy... cowgirl with." That statement nearly made me choke again. All I could do wasstare at her for a moment in disbelief, sure that she was joking. "Are you some kind of fucking witch?" I demanded, suddenlyrealizing that she must have done. "But from what little he has said it's obvious that he's a very sexually frustrated man and that prostitute's somehow seem to represent a painful mirror of his own inadequacies. Apparently for all his life there's been a pattern of impotency in any normal male-female relationship and at one point he even eagerly told us that he's unable to achieve sexual arousal except when stimulated by violence or death." So is the fucker going to fry or not?" I asked somewhat belligerently.Dana's face turned. “Good,” she said. “I’m turning off the monitor now. Have the run of the place for a quarter of an hour. Enjoy.”She turned off the monitor but left the camera running, knowing she’d need to satisfy her own curiosity at some point.For several minutes she sat, almost motionless, jotting cryptic notes on a pad in front of her.She picked up the phone.”Hello? Could I speak to Marion please — Hi it’s Julie Goddard, Can I drag you away from whatever you’re doing later this afternoon. I need makeover. Her eyes were still aimed at mine, but I don’t think she was looking at them. We made contact down there long enough for me to know that she was more than a little moist. And shaved. Becky leaned forward and brushed her very stiff nipples against my chest; first up and down, then side to side. “We.” Brush. “Don’t.” Brush. “Have.” Brush-brush. “Time.” Those nipples and her blush suggested otherwise, though. After that, the only thing that touched was our gaze. My hand kept my cock stiff, not.