JANE, Dealing with a Mechanic62 and my life is over. I don't fucking deserve it. I lived a clean life. I go to church. I had one man. I raised three k...ds. I taught high school English. Heck, one of my best friends is 82 and is going on a world cruise. I just ate the toast to humor my son and his family. All of my doctors say there is no hope. All they can do is manage the pain. Bullshit, this is not pain management. Death would be better. What can a body mechanic, a computer nerd and an OBGYN. On? she wondered, as her thoughts slowed and finally stopped. The next to go were her memories, tumbling away like leaves from the bed of a pickup on the highway. Her mouth hung open as she continued to stare helplessly into the beams. Her will was overwritten with obedience, the place where her memories and personality had been replaced with sexual programming. She was a toy. Her purpose was to be played with by her owner. Any game her owner wanted her to play, she must be prepared to play. As. Andrea had more or less renounced lesbian sex altogether. And amongst the others, now the once reliably indiscriminate Crystal was spending most of her time with Judy, only Tomiko and the Harlot could be trusted to maintain the sexual licence that had so recently acted as the band’s cohesive glue.So, it was pretty well inevitable that the appearance of a couple of young men in our number during our stay at the Paradise Hotel would exacerbate the growing fractures in the band.“There’s a fucking. They exchanged a few words which he could not hear. Sally shook her head, Army guy laughed. With two steps he was next to her, grabbed her arm.“Run”, Dough whispered, felt his heart beat faster. Visions of how he would step in, help her, rescue her flashed before his eyes. Telling the bloke to get lost, escorting Sally home.But that would not happen. Instead he pulled out his mobile. No signal. What did he expect, in the middle of a wood.He looked up again. That guy was touching her, had.