Finish your plate, and let’s go.”“Okay, Ruth.”“Call me, Grandma. It’ll be easier for you.”My son’s eyes bulged. He’d never experienc...d the full force of my mother’s will.The list of tasks she left me were lighter, but they would fill every minute of the day, even if I weren’t hobbled by an ass dark from welts.I worked steadily, without fail, grabbing fruit and nuts for lunch, continuing the work. The day wore on. I wore out, but I pressed myself. I ached from excessive labor over the two days. She downed it in an exaggerated swallowing motion and smiled. Then she climbed up from his lap and whispered into his ear."Time to see if you can live up to your end of the deal. Just so you know, I'm one hard bitch to get off."* * *Faith examined the Plexiglas wall between the front and back seats of the cab. It was designed to keep rides from jumping the cabbie, she guessed. Just had a little slot to push money through and to talk into. She had no idea what it was supposed to do if the ride. The curve of his butt, the outline of his latsagainst his shirt, his shoulders firm and round, as he walked away, leavingmy hunger unsated, unmet.And, as sweat still dripped down my pits and along my ribs andchest, and dampening my shirt, he came back, salad and bread in hand. Hesmiled and I wanted to take him right there, tongue against tongue, lipsagainst lips, my cock hard against his pants, my hand groping and graspingand pulling down his zipper, until I held him, hot and damp in my. Terry stood there taking it all. Never flinching, never backing away. This only fed my anger. He was not even embarrassed. The asshole. The fucking asshole! Eventually I wore down. A long day of work combined with emotional upheaval finally gave way to physical exhaustion. Having run out accusations I looked for other avenues to humiliate him as he humiliated me, ‘So what gets you off? Watching some slut fuck. Some whore cream out? What is it?!?’ He glanced at the DVD player and I knew I had.