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So that even when the score demands syncopation and swing- notes played off the beat- you still anticipate the next ‘takt’, and prepare yourself, subconsciously (but completely) for the next note that you know will come, whether you are playing, or not.Your head is a perfect contradiction. On one hand: determined, driven, certain. You know who you are. You know your mind. Your outward desires and reality are as clear as day.And so you resent and revile your own baser instincts- your tearing, teeth-on-edge irritation at yourself that your own wants and desires pull you off the predictable, relentless beat, towards your off-beat, fallible pulse instead.Because, your pulse is racing and slowing: not based on your own free-will, but upon mine.That little prick. He’s always winding you up. Where does he get off? Stupid, slathering, letchy arsehole. Fuck him. Why don’t they listen? They never listen. Their arrogance is so see-through. They don’t know anything. Why has this cunt pushed in,. .. She stammered as the Asian man neared her.The Mask dropped his bag and gripped her slender wrist. On your feet you sexy little tart, he growled. His other hand rubbed across her t-shirt chest squeezing through the material. Stacey grunted and then half yelped as his hand shot under her short skirt to goose her ass. She made a pathetic attempt at a struggle looking back at the Boss; her eyes disbelieving; almost in confusing as the mask examined her like a piece of meat. First her ass, then her tanned thighs were stroked. He gripped one small tits making her back arch, then caressed her swan neck his finger pushing up to her hot wet mouth. All the time he was grunting in approval. Hmm, yes, hmm, good, good ahhh, until he finally gave a non negotiable order. Fucking lay on the kitchen table while we get a good look at you.Stacey whimpered a little and again looked back at the Boss. He was beginning to stand pointing in that direction. She almost jumped out of her skin as the Mask.
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"You've got a lovely apartment, Gran," she said. "But what was wrong with the old one? You'd lived there all my life."I had to move because of the stairs, dear," said Primrose's grandmother who carefully eased herself into a leather armchair. "The frequent power cuts mean that the lift often doesn't work. Ten flights of stairs are far more than a woman of my age can cope with." But you're not actually on the ground floor, Gran." I can manage one flight of stairs. And anyway I don't want to get caught in the floods." There hasn't been a flood this far from the river, Gran." You'd think not, but the river's not that far away. The last time there was a flood the waters almost reached Clapham Common. There's not a lot to stop London getting flooded out of existence just like East Anglia." I guess not," said Primrose thoughtfully as she contemplated the safety of the studio apartment she was renting in Barking. Although she mostly only ever arrived there late at night she saw it as her.

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