Seemingly sensing my situation, Richard hauled me roughly to my feet. What little romance existed was expended, and I knew from bitter experience that...all Richard wanted now was a quickie. As much as anything, I thought that the wine in his system that I could still smell on his breath was ample evidence of that. He spun me round and forced me face down over the table, breasts and tummy pressing against the cold wood, and forced my legs apart. His hand moved between my legs, and, when I felt. O.B., before replying, ‘John Fitzgerald Rourke.’ Adding in explanation, ‘Mama was Irish Catholic. But you can call me ‘Rocky’.’ Her head popped back around the kitchen door jam but Dierdre beat her to the question, ‘Rocky?’ Feeling more at ease every minute and more confident about his decision he shooed Dierdre into the kitchen ahead of him – ‘Short for ‘Rocky Raccoon’. My D.I. caught me not paying attention in hand-to-hand and broke my nose – I got two black eyes…and after that…’ Dierdre. "How have I displeased you, Stephen? Havent I suffered enough for you?"Hes listening to her with half interest. Its as if hes been distracted. Even during her final beating, he seemed withdrawn."I suppose you have. For now. Your body needs time to heal, and if you were to undergo another whipping, Im afraid you would bleed. And how would we explain that to the Doctor?"She laughs at this, in spite of herself. "I guess you have a vaild point."She sits up, drawing the covers up over herself. Shes. That sounded wonderful.My room was breathtaking. I'd never stayed at such a nice place. Harold laid a briefcase that he'd been carrying on the king-size bed. I looked at the menu and told Harold I wanted lobster. He ordered two meals. When our meal arrived, he told me he wasn't hungry, but had ordered two meals so I could take one home with me.Apparently, Harold had money. Maybe I could live out my other fantasy of being a prostitute.To my surprise, Harold said he needed to leave. He said he.