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I could feel his fingers sliding along the moistness of my slit every now and then he would hit my clit, which was standing erect like a very small cock trying to get attention... god I was burning I was aching for his touch, I am a slut I thought... his hands were so firm but gentle and demanding all at the same time. Suddenly he stopped; I heard a small voice say "don't stop please sir" and realized it was mine, before I could get embarrassed I heard the distinct sound of a zipper and of clothes being removed, and felt myself starting to panic againOne thought kept reverberating in my head... there would be no rescue and no escape. This man was going to do whatever he wanted to me and there was nothing I could do to stop him.I was shoved over onto my back and my knees were being spread I tried to resist but copped a quick slap on my cunt, god it stung and then I felt a body being placed between them holding them open there was no way to resist them being spread, he shift weight and. ’ ‘Not so good, I was awake most of the night trying to figure out how you got so lucky with your comments and your apparent guess about my birthmark.’ ‘Ooh my dear Paula, that was not a guess but an actual observation, you see I have seen your pretty naked butt on many occasions, in fact my hands have caressed your entire naked body, don’t you remember?’ ‘This is not at all humorous Mr. Polito, in fact you are being quite rude not to mention very frightening. Something is weird here, please tell me what’s going on, I’m beginning to freak out.’ I laughed aloud and said, ‘by the way call me Doug and why don’t you meet me for lunch at Renaldo’s Brasserie on Seventh Avenue, do you know it?’ ‘Yes I do, but that place is impossible to get into.’ ‘Worry not my princess, ooh and bring that Sullivan proposal we might as well get that out of the way at the same time. Till then my dear,’ and I hung up before she could respond. I called my old high school buddy Renaldo and made arraignments.
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Down had not slept through the night. He had been wide-awake through the yawning zero-hour wails of police traffic, and the infant communications of hunger and need… While everybody else–and we must exclude here the professional night-crawlers, the willing insomniacs–while everybody else slumbered peacefully, or fitfully, or lovingly through the night, Down had been horribly, depressingly awake. He simply wasn’t getting enough sleep, and it was killing him. Even junior doctors managed more shut-eye. Down shuffled out of Dr Blight’s consulting room ten minutes earlier than usual. Dr Blight had noted Down’s permanent condition (he was permanently depressed, and knackered) and had broken all the rules by writing him a prescription for high dosage sleeping pills. Seemingly, Dr Blight was past caring about his reputation, or even his patients. The pills he had prescribed could knock out an eco system–they were the nukes of the pharmaceutical world. Sleep? You wouldn’t be able to wake up..

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