We'd be finished with Bartleby this week, she told us. Chapters one through five to be read by next Monday, five through ten by the following Friday. ...he same schedule for the rest of the year. Five more chapters every Monday, and another five every Friday. There were lots of chapters, people, but they were small. A paper entitled "Why not call him Bob or Sam?" was due on the 20th of February. No, Mrs. Palmer would not explain the title; we should read chapters one through five first. She would. Her cuffed hands clenched up beneath her butt as she panted, hating herself for how much she craved the continuing attentions of Bianca's mouth. Bianca couldn’t believe Stacey was enjoying this. Her friend was participating in their own rape at the hands of these sadistic men. What was wrong with her? Stacey's heavy-lidded gaze, filled with lust, matched her quickening breathing as she looked down at Bianca licking out her most intimate folds. "I'm sorry, B," Stacey whispered. "Please forgive. " my secretary informed me. "I left them waiting in your office as you instructed." Thank you." I turned and saw Ms. Q leaving her office for the day. "Care to sit in?" I'd rather not, thank you. I have to get home before my husband burns down the kitchen again trying to make dinner."Smart woman. Come to think of it, I think I would rather go home to a fight with my wife. The worst she could do is to kill me.But I did not go home.I went into my office instead.Mr. and Mrs. Donk were waiting for. ’ Denise looked around. Susan’s living room was awash with stuff. There were bunnies of various types on shelves all along one wall, on the floor in front of it and in one of the chairs. Boxed sets of DVDs were piled up, like bricks, adjoining the television. The carpet, where she could see it, was a slightly ratty looking Victorian pattern, the walls themselves could do with new wall paper and the coffee table was piled high with books of various kinds. There were posters on the wall,.