Looking in the bedrooms on the second floor; she saw no one and heard nothing. "Strange?" shethought, as she started down the stairs, "Nobody seems to...be home". Walkinginto the kitchen, Stacy made some coffee and toast, eating the toast with littlebites and luxuriating in the strong, hot coffee as it flowed down her throatand into her stomach; warming her. Getting bored, Stacy turned on the littleTelevision on the counter and almost dropped her coffee cup at the image itshowed her, flickering. The plank was well above floor level. I soon understood the arrangement of this piece of apparatus. Acolytes helped Lisa onto the plank, and fastened her arms at the wrists and legs at the ankles to the chains by leather straps. Accordingly her legs and arms rose upwards and outwards from her body. The plank was shorter than her torso so that her backside rested on the edge at one end, while at the other end her head had no support. It depended on the strength of her neck muscles whether she. . not sure how to ask.Oh, where is this going?It's just ... well, do you masturbate?That sounds very clinical.Jerk off, then. There, you made me say it.I didn't make you say anything.Yeah, but it's so grubby.Jerking off?No, no. The word.Oh. So ... what would you prefer?Oh, nothing. It's alright. I really should relax.You should. Take a bath!Later. But anyway, you didn't really answer.Of course I do. Didn't I before?Did you?Of course I did. You helped me.Yeah, but that was before ... you know,. I was glad to see it wasn'tLatin, but this one was in French and appeared to be another religioussong, which I suppose was only correct since we were in a church. Much ofthe French I learnt must have stayed, as I understood most of the wordsand even how to pronounce them.As we sang, the audience that had stood outside the door crept in. Marthadidn't stop playing, so we kept on singing the Cantique de Jean Racine.Stacy stood by the door, quietly ushering people in. The room was quicklyfilling.