A sharp rap next to my head woke me with a start.  I jerked, banging my thigh on the steering wheel of my Hudson Traveler and yelping in surprise.  The beat cop standing outside the window chuckled heartily, his belly straining the worn buttons of his uniform jacket.  Cops, like most humans, can be bastards.  Some are better than others, but the ones around here all seem to have the same sense of humor.  They love to find private investigators, like me, pulling all-nighters, and give them a good shake down, while our paychecks snuck out the back window or even pressed charges for harassment or trespassing.  I don’t hold it against them.  They have tough jobs, and deserve a little fun, too.  I just wish it wasn’t at my expense.

I tried to smooth my rumpled clothing and wipe the spittle from my cheek, with a modicum of success, before rolling down the window.  If I had been lucky, I would have known the patrolman, and we could have laughed it off over doughnuts.  I wasn’t.  I didn’t know this guy from Adam and would have to play nice if I wanted to get out of here in under half an hour, and, more importantly, without a ticket.

“Morning, Officer.” I said, ignoring the possibility I had slept in my car long into the afternoon.  “What can I do for you?”  He shifted his large bulk and glanced at his watch, then back at me, his expression full of sadistic glee.  He took in my disheveled appearance and camera equipment spread over the passenger seat and checked his watch again, his smile spreading.

“For about ten more minutes…ma’am.”  His amusement was clear, and my mood didn’t take it kindly, but I kept my peace.  He stared at me a moment longer, then across the street at the hotel.   “Were you too drunk to make it into the hotel last night?  Or couldn’t you afford it?”

“I was working.  My client had me follow someone here.”  This was going to take forever. 

“Your…client?”  I hated the smug grin that crossed his face, and the way he hitched his belt before leaning down and resting his arms through the open window.  “We don’t usually have workin’ girls just up and admit it like that.  Not sure if I should ask you for proof of your profession…”  I knew he had checked my plates before he even got out of his car.  Dispatch would have confirmed my status as an investigator, so he was just giving me a rough time.  If I’d been in a better mood, I might have come up with a witty retort.  Instead, I decided to give him my identification and see if it helped matters.  I blindly searched my camera bags, hoping to feel the plastic laminated rectangles among the film containers and padding.

My head was pounding, even though I was sober.  I must have slept more poorly than usual in the front seat.  I swore as my search remained fruitless.  It must have been loud enough to startle him.  He lurched back with a yell and quickly put his hand on his holster.  I heard the click of the safety and froze with my hands outstretched, facing away from him, the feeling eerily familiar, though for the life of me I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had a gun pointed at me.

“Watch it, now…”  His voice was tense.  To his credit, he hadn’t let the fact I’m a woman cloud his senses.  Lesser cops often brushed me off as harmless, before they knew who I was, and even then, some were persistent in their ignorance.

“Sorry, sir.  Just getting you my ID.  It’s in the glove compartment.  I’m a PI, so there’s a gun in there, too.”  My voice was surprisingly steady, and I felt amazingly calm, considering.  I sighed.  This was not my day.

“Go ahead, but you better come back with paper only.”

I moved slowly and deliberately, kicking myself for making things worse.  I flicked the latch and the door dropped down.  The gun, a standard .38 Colt, secured safely to the door, glinted in the near afternoon sun.  The cards were buried under the piles of old makeup, tissues, parking tickets, and sales receipts that spilled into the passenger side in an unholy mess.  I sat back up in my seat, handing them over apologetically.  “Sorry.  I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Well, I’ll be.”  He studied the cards, flipping between them three or four times before clipping them to his pad.  “Lange.  Why do I know that name?   You weren’t…”  His face illuminated with recognition and I cringed internally.  “You used to go to the academy, didn’t you?  Tried to be a cop?  You even dated Chief Carlson, before you washed out!  Not every day I get to meet a precinct celebrity.  I think I’ll just get your autograph, while I’m at it.”  The fact he knew about my relationship with Denny was embarrassing enough, but he was still writing down my license number and shoving the pen at me.  I signed to acknowledge the ticket, and he ripped off a copy from his book.  The cop was laughing loudly by the time he reached his cruiser. 

I started the car and headed to the office, crumpling the yellow ticket and tossing it into the passenger footwell amongst the other trash as soon as I had rounded the corner.  I had finally followed Laura somewhere promising and had passed out waiting in the car.  Now I had no idea where she was, who she’d been with, or why she’d gone there, plus a hefty fine for not finding any of it out.  I swore again.  I’d forgotten to get my card back.  That meant a trip downtown.  I rubbed my eyes, debating drinking the cold sludge that remained in my thermos, and decided against it.  If it hadn’t helped me stay awake last night, it wasn’t going to do me any favors now.

I tried to remember what had happened once Laura had gone inside, but I just kept coming back to gray fog and weird parts of a very sexy dream about her and Mike.  Not a stellar indication of my deductive prowess, that was for sure, though I wasn’t going to complain about the erotic images that flittered through my thoughts as I parked in the alley behind our building.  I wasn’t bothered that both of them had featured prominently in my nocturnal fantasies, or that they seemed more interested in each other than me.  The strong realism, the scents and sounds and feel of the dream, was not usual for me, and it made it all the harder to shake them from my mind.

Alice was typing when I entered, unsurprisingly.  She looked at me over her glasses, then at the clock, then back to my appearance, her pursed lips and downturned mouth exactly the disapproving glare I hated from her, though she wasn’t wrong.  At least I wasn’t drunk or hungover.  I did value my work, whether Alice thought so or not, and I agreed with her, for the most part.  Some days were just rougher than others.  Like today.

“I’m glad you got here before I left.  Did you forget I’m leaving on vacation today?  I’ll be gone until Monday.  You’ve got an appointment for a new case tomorrow morning.  Didn’t get much over the phone, but they sent in the retainer last week, so treat them nice, okay?”  She was definitely annoyed with me, but not so annoyed that I was in trouble.  I winked back at her, “Nice as I treat you, princess.”  Alice rolled her eyes, but I caught the smirk on the edges of her lips.  Her smile softened my mood, and I remembered her birthday was coming up.  I mentally added an extra sawbuck to the budget I’d set aside for her gift.

Alice was essential to me.  She was a smart woman, and beautiful, though she tried to hide it behind dowdy outfits and thick glasses.  She was the first thing that greeted new clients when they walked in the door, and had proved an excellent judge of character, or at least an excellent judge of who would make timely payments.   We had been roommates while we both attended the academy, though she was there for administrative training only.  Everything had started great, but the more pressure I felt from my classes, the more I took an interest in my classmates instead.  I was young, attractive, and enthusiastic about becoming an officer.  I was surrounded by men who were young, attractive, and enthusiastic about me.  It was a heady mix, and I admit I got carried away.  I started drinking, having sex, and having even more sex.  Alice stuck by me, though, making sure I stayed healthy and safe.  I was a better student than she was, even with my extracurricular activities, so it mostly balanced out.  Until I brought home Denny, the man who we now know as Chief Carlson.

I could tell we both liked him, but he wanted Alice.  Being used to getting what I wanted, I threw a fit and…. let’s just say I didn’t act in a manner befitting a proper officer, and Alice blew the whistle.  I got kicked out of the academy, and our apartment.  I’m pretty sure all three of us ended up with broken hearts.  Somehow, I still qualified for my investigator license the next fall and Alice and I patched things up enough to start the agency.  I learned to respect Alice’s strict viewpoints, and she stopped thinking I was a lost cause.  She made sure I paid the rent, took my clothes to the cleaners, and had even bailed me out once, but didn’t ask about my love life.  I tried to come to work before noon, listened to her complaints about ‘the state of the world’, and didn’t correct her when she called my run ins with the law “sobering me up in the drunk tank.”  I wasn’t entirely useless on my own, but it was a hell of a lot easier with Alice helping out.  Despite our disagreements, we truly liked each other.

Lugging the camera cases into the interior office, I put them down on my desk with a thud.   I collapsed into my chair to go over my mail.  There wasn’t much, just bills that had to wait until the next check came in from Mike.  I hoped he would call today, like he had been.  I wouldn’t have a good update for him on the case, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t try for a quick meal with him while I pushed for more info.  If I was lucky enough to ogle his gorgeous face and body while we talked, that was just a bonus.  My eyes stared at the phone, willing it to ring.  I felt Alice’s eyes on me through the open door between us and realized it must look like I was staring into space, instead of doing anything productive.  I heard her ‘tsk’ when I reached for the camera bags and began unloading them.

“Don’t forget to take the Bolsey with you.  I didn’t get anything on it last night, so you should have a full reel.”  Alice raised an eyebrow.  She knew how precious my cameras were to me, and the business, so offering one up like that was more than an olive branch, it was a full out bribe.  She tried to hide her expression, but I knew she was mollified.

I hoped I managed to get one good shot from the night before.  I knew that I hadn’t come up with anything concrete from my observations alone.  Considering I’d passed out just after Laura had gone inside, I was lucky I’d gotten any shots at all.  Still, there was a chance.  Sometimes stuff sneaks into your viewfinder, and you don’t see it until you lay a series of shots out on the floor or go through them in sequence.  Then, you can let your mind blur a little, blankly stare at the whole thing, until your eye is drawn to the exact detail you need to linger on.  I carried the Ektra into the bathroom I had converted to a dark room, leaving the unused Bolsey on the desk for Alice.  At least here, Alice couldn’t barge in and give me a piece of her mind.  It might ruin the film, and that’s where the money was.

Most of my pictures needed to be bigger than your average snapshot, so I had an enlarger shoved onto a table next to the bath.  The buckets I used for developing hovered over the tub itself, on a couple of planks of scrap wood.  In addition to bigger pictures in general, I needed to see exactly who and what was going on, so I’d gone all in on high resolution and long focus lenses, not to mention bigger developing paper and the higher end of the chemical components.  I bought them in bulk when I could.  I even installed a flimsy inner wall and door to make sure Alice could use the toilet in emergencies.  Most of my expenses, excluding Alice, were for the cameras and paraphernalia.  As much as it strained my pocketbook, I loved to watch a blank page slowly turn into the very thing you were looking for. 

Large boxes of equipment were scattered across the floor and under the battered card table I’d rescued from a local pool hall that was going out of business.  There were shelves at the back, intended to keep the place tidy, that had instead acquired a smattering of old case files, dusty piles of parts and lenses for the cameras, and half empty bottles, some actually containing the liquids needed to complete the development process.  I mixed the chemicals carefully.  The ingredients could be extremely volatile.  I was practiced enough to recognize the chemicals by smell, but I wasn’t going to risk getting the measurements wrong.  If you didn’t know what you were doing, you would be left looking at black and gray smudges when you were done in the best case scenario, dead as doornail in the worst.

It would take a few minutes for the chemicals to prep before I put the film into the baths.  My thoughts turned back to Mike.  I wondered if he would let me talk to Laura.  So far, I hadn’t broached the question, too used to my clients wanting to keep their spouses in the dark about my employment.  I didn’t think Mike was in that situation, though, and if part of what had brought him to me was Laura’s demeanor, then it followed that I should know what that was.  I hadn’t turned up anything to help me understand what Mike was so concerned about, aside from the gut feeling about their too pristine financials.  I needed a catalyst.  Something that would combine with what I already knew and start the cascade of inferences that revealed the full picture.  Maybe a conversation with Laura would be just that.

I closed the inner door and flicked the switch.  Red hues filtered over the table and cast menacing shadows between the hills and valleys of the chaotic mess I had let the inmost sanctum become, important as it was to my livelihood.  Dipping the negatives with a practiced hand, I completed the ritual and hung the wet paper up to dry, hoping my camerawork had been able to redeem the rough night.  I’d show whatever turned out to Mike.  If I was lucky, something might even jog his memory.  Fascinating things could emerge from the uniform white pages, and I needed some.  I watched eagerly, as black and white images of the hotel and the statuesque woman bathed in light appeared from the ether.

Laura’s long limbs and sleek form dominated the images, the lighting leaving little to the imagination, especially with the way her dress clung to her body.  If I looked close enough, I could see the shadow where her legs rose from her heels and split under her curving hips.  Her hair fell softly down her long neck, draping across the spaghetti straps of her dress and brushing the tops of her full breasts, nearly spilling out of the deep vee of the material.  My mind compared the pictures to my intense dream from the night before, reinforcing the carnal desire that drew my eyes over her body again and again. 

I needed to pull it together.  This was Laura.  This was Laura, another man’s wife.  This was Laura, Mike’s wife, in specific.  Mike, who I had been fantasizing over.  Mike, my client.  Laura, his wife.  Laura and Mike, who now featured prominently in my darkest, most secret, desires.  And secret they needed to stay.  No matter how lonely I was, I could never muddy the line of business and pleasure like that without dire consequences.  I sighed, thankful for the intruding conscience Alice had drilled into me over years of working together.

I couldn’t hear the clack of the typewriter anymore, which probably meant Alice had gone while I was waiting for the photos.  I flicked out the light, leaving the inner sanctum and returning to the front office.  Alice’s chair was empty, and the Bolsey was nowhere to be seen.  I knew she wouldn’t be back any time soon, but it felt strange to sit in her spot, still warm from her body.  I rummaged through the paperwork on her desk, looking for the info she’d written up on the new case.  She said there wasn’t much, but if they’d already paid the retainer, I wanted to make sure I didn’t miss anything.  I was thoroughly engrossed when the door opened and Mike walked in.

Surprised, I stood, my heart skipping a beat.  Charming as ever, Mike strode to the desk and lifted my hand to his lips, though his brow was furrowed.  “Mike?  What are you doing here?”  I said, perturbed at being caught unawares.  His eyes met mine and I blushed.  I wanted to retrieve my hand from his grip but was frozen in his gaze.  My voice softened, “Sorry, but I wasn’t expecting anyone.”  He nodded, face still unreadable, though he moved with definite purpose.  He guided me around the desk, the gentle pressure of his hand on mine and his intense stare leading me without words.  Before I knew it, I was wrapped tightly in his arms.

“I’m glad we’re alone.”  His voice was thick with emotion.  His lips brushing against my hair, hot breath in my ear.  He loosened his grip but still held me close.  His eyes sparkled blue and gold as he looked down at me.  I tried to protest, to pull away, but the heat that engulfed me held me still.  I knew it was wrong.  He was my client.  I also knew I’d been dreaming of this moment since he walked through the door.  Would it be so wrong to indulge?  He was the one embracing me, after all.  I doubted myself.  He was obviously in earnest, maybe something bad had happened.

“Is everything alright?”  My voice quavered, the pure proximity to his muscular frame hindering my composure on top of the dramatic energy filling the room.  “Is it Laura?”  My words were barely audible, even to myself.  I searched his eyes, looking for a hint of recognizable emotion, something to contextualize our entwined bodies.  The longer I stared, the more I forgot what I was searching for.  The light of the early afternoon sun shifted and danced through the half drawn blinds, adding to the dizzying effect.  I felt his arms around my waist, my chest pressed to his, my breath growing lighter as my thoughts chased through the twinkling patterns of his irises.  I exhaled slowly, regaining my balance and supporting myself.  He let me go, though we continued to look deeply into each other’s eyes. 

“Why don’t you lock the door,” he whispered.  I nodded silently, taking slow even steps around him, never looking away.  He turned with me, dropping his arms to his sides as I backed toward the door and turned the latch, all the while watching me.  Images of his naked body, or at least what I’d dreamed them to be the night before, flashed through my mind, adding to the invisible weight holding me in place.  I didn’t want him to suspect those desires lurking so close to the front of my mind.  I didn’t want to do anything but look deeper into his eyes.  “That’s my good girl.”

The memories flooded over me instantly, and a calming mist dulled my emotions.  I remembered what had happened the night before.  I remembered the intense climaxes.  I remembered watching Laura and Mike, listening to them, feeding my lurid needs off their sexual passions, and wanting more.  I remembered what Mike had said.  I remembered what I had agreed to.  I waited for my instructions, listening to my breathing and staring obediently into Mike’s eyes.

He smiled, perfect teeth flashing between perfect lips in a perfect face.  I waited, content and drinking in his presence like it was water in the desert.  He stepped closer, cupping my cheek in his hand and tilting my head up, turning it this way and that as he examined my reactions.  I offered no resistance, any reflex to his touch or anticipation of his actions drained by the trance.  My lips remained in a soft half-smile more enigmatic than the Mona Lisa’s, if only because there was no enigma behind it.  His thumb brushed my bottom lip lovingly, pushing it down slightly and entering my mouth.  He left it there a moment, then withdrew his hands completely, still observing me as he began to pace back and forth in front of Alice’s desk.

He took in the room, then shook his head, dismissing it.  I stood by the door, yearning for his touch, his smell, his anything, but unable to ask for it, or outwardly demonstrate my need.  He circled the small space, drawing the blinds closed, then moved into the inner office, turning on the single desk lamp in the corner and drawing the window coverings there, as well.  I could hear him going through the drawers of my desk, the minute coat closet, and trying the handles on the locked filing cabinet.  I knew his behavior was wrong, that he shouldn’t be in my office without me, much less going through everything, but there was nothing I could do about it, even if I’d wanted to.  I heard him put a bottle on the desk, and pour into the single tumbler he’d found, probably the same one I’d been drinking from the first night we’d met.  The thought of his lips brushing against where my lips had been before was raising my blood pressure, even though it paled in comparison to what I imagined his lips directly on mine would do.

“Come here and sit on the couch.”  His voice was business-like, firm, authoritative, and I answered immediately. 

“I hear and obey.”  Though my steps felt heavier than normal, I moved easily into the inner office, the sound of my heels clicking against the wood floor echoing in my ears.  I sat on the edge of the cushions, knees held together loosely by my thin skirt, and hands resting in my lap.  He nodded, gracing me with a small warmth to his gaze.  He took a drink and coughed, loosening his tie as the liquor burned his throat.  He picked up the bottle, glanced at the label, and then eyed me, a twinkle in his eye.  He sat on the corner of the desk, looking me up and down hungrily.  He was slow, methodical, as he considered what to do with me.  I could feel my arousal growing, the anticipation adding to the smoldering embers within me.

“Take off your shoes.”

“I hear and obey.”  I slid my feet out of the pumps, putting them to the side of the sofa, out of the way.  Mike’s face showed no sign of any emotion at my actions, other than the lust already present.  The next few commands came in a rapid fire of syllables.  They were simple instructions, mostly directing my movements.  I tried to answer each with my programmed response, but there wasn’t enough time to finish the phrase, much less complete the command, before the next had arrived.  The last in the series had been to sit on the couch again, so I ended up not really moving at all.  His brow wrinkled for a moment, and he spat out a couple more simple movements, again, ending with the command to sit on the couch.  Again, I didn’t have time to respond or complete the actions.  Mike clucked his tongue.

“For now, we’ll be working mostly on fine tuning.  Your ability to think and improvise in the moment is important to me, but I need your reaction time to be faster.  It won’t be as exciting as last night, but we need to walk before we can run.”  My heart sank a little as I heard his rebuke.  All I wanted was to serve him, and it seemed I was already failing.  The next hour was a constant stream of repetitive actions, with Mike using different tones and gestures to see which I responded to most naturally.  He removed my need to respond to his commands, so at least my intuition and comprehension pleased him.  My desire for his touch grew with each second, but his attention and continued praise kept most of it at bay. 

The sound of his voice was enchanting, and I grew more enamored of it with each instruction I completed.  I was starting to understand the order in which he thought through a task, and it allowed me to anticipate what the next task might be more easily.  He began to parse my personal lexicon, finding the connotations I had for words which gave me better clues as to his intentions.  After some trial and error, we both knew what it meant when he said “wait” instead of “stop”.  In practice, they both ceased my current action, but the former indicated a new action to follow while the latter was closer to a warning and my movement halted more abruptly.  As boring as it may seem, I found it a fascinating process.  It was delicate nuance, but it made his control over me all the more powerful.

Physically, it was like a calisthenics routine.  My muscles stretched and curled, pointed and contracted, and were generally exercised, to the point that I began to feel winded.  Occasionally he would critique my posture, or the line of my silhouette, and we would go through the movements again.  He stressed elegance, but without requiring frailty or strain.  He understood that, though it may not be “womanly” to know how to fight or fire a weapon, they were skills I possessed and could be useful to him.  I was surprised when he requested me to complete a couple of the self-defense techniques I’d learned at the academy, or as surprised as I could be without him commanding it.  When he was satisfied that my body was responding to him almost as quickly as my mind, not to mention in ways he found visually appealing, he pulled my desk chair over into the center of the room and sat down in it, directly in front of my position on the couch.

He leaned back, his legs spread to show the large bulge pressing against his inseam.  My eyes were focused on his face, but it was large enough I noticed in my peripheral vision.  The excitement must have registered on my face, because he almost laughed before placing a hand against the lump and beginning to rub it absentmindedly.  He hummed, pleasure from the touch coursing through him, and subsequently to me, as I was singularly attuned to his mental state from the lengthy training session.  I wanted to squirm in my seat but had been given no such freedom.

“You’ve done very well, so far.  I’m rather impressed.  Your initial conditioning is sound, so you are allowed to express your arousal, but only through your facial expressions and sounds, not words.”  My heart soared, his praise lighting my synapses in a torrent of erotic impulses.  A husky gasp left my throat and he nodded in approval.  “Like that, do you?”  I nodded, straining against my own body to garner any sort of physical reinforcement, though outwardly I moved not an inch.  “Shall we go deeper?”

His voice dropped on the last word, and my stomach with it.  His hand slid slowly up and down over the bulge.  My eyes locked into his, just as they had last night, and though they wanted to follow his hand, I couldn’t pull them away.  He smiled wider as a soft moan rumbled in my chest.  “Yes…after all we’ve practiced today, I think we can have some fun now.  I’m going to teach you a very special command.  I’m going to teach you to drop.  When I command you to drop it will mean you go limp, blank, and instantly aroused.  It will be like a blissful, silent slumber, and my desires will etch themselves into the very deepest parts of your mind.  When you drop, the changes I make to you will be permanent.  They will not be undone.  Ever.  Would you like that?  You may answer with ‘yes’ or ‘no’.”

“Yes.”  I felt my lips form the word, but it was a distant sensation, not quite numb, but not unpleasant.  He scooted the chair closer to me.  I could see the golden flecks dancing within his pupils, their mystifying movement repeating in a pattern I couldn’t quite discern.  Every inhale he took, I found a slightly different flicker that drew my attention.  I felt my jaw drop slowly as I continued to stare.

“Good girl.  I’m going to count for you, now.  I’m going to count to ten.  As I count, I want you to relax.  I want you to think about how well you’ve listened to me, about how pleased I am with you, about how utterly turned on you’ve made me.  I want you to think about how good that makes you feel, to have done so well, to have worked so hard, and to have earned the pleasure that comes from that effort.  Because you have earned it.  And as I count, and as you think of those things, I want you to be prepared.  I want you to be prepared for when I reach ten.  I want you to be prepared for the next step in your servitude, the next step in my ownership, the next command to drop.  One.”  I immediately took a breath, letting it out slowly as his words washed over me, my blank gaze never leaving his face.

“Two.  Feel your limbs growing heavy as the tension drains away.  Feel your shoulders supported by the leather, feel your feet supported by the floor, feel your arms resting at your sides.  Feel your thoughts slipping away, making more room for my commands.  Making more room for your desires.  Making more of your desires mine.  Three.  Feel your eyes growing heavy.  Your thoughts slowing down.  The space between breaths growing longer.  There’s no reason to rush, nowhere to be, nothing to think about except my voice.  Because it will be my voice that will command you.  My voice that will surround you.  My voice that will fill you as you drop deeper at the count of ten.  My voice that will return you to this deeply relaxed state.  My voice that you will yearn for with every fiber of your existence.  Four.”

The more he spoke, the less I took in.  His words were like constant waves, lapping at the edges of my consciousness, eroding away my ability to observe anything but what he drew my attention to.  I wasn’t fighting the experience, and that let the tendrils of his power seep deeper into my being, bringing with them a sense of comfort and ease tied to his voice and control.  My body, already poised to respond to his every whim, was overly eager to sink deeper into the brown padding of the sofa.  I felt as if a weight was lifting with each syllable, my mind beginning to float on a sea of Mike’s words.

“Eight.  That’s it, you only need to listen.  No thinking.  No worrying.  No remembering.  No problems.  No distractions.  Just my voice, and the pleasure it brings you.  Counting up to the next level of obedience, the next level of pleasure, the next command.  Counting up to ten.  Counting up to the moment when your body responds only to me, when your mind is mine, when I can make you do whatever I want.”  I heard the squeak of the chair.  I didn’t know when my eyes had shut, but my lids were definitely closed now.  His voice stayed even, strong and seductive, though it moved closer to me as he leaned forward.  The more relaxed I felt, the more my body yearned.  I licked my lips, the brush of my tongue evoking another wave of need.

“Nine.  So good.  So calm.  So aroused.  So deeply relaxed.  So ready to submit even more fully.  So ready to sink even deeper.” I could feel the heat from his body.  His legs bordered mine, brushing against them lightly.  I stood at the precipice of an abyss, on one side the sure, trusted, yet very lonely life I’d been living, the other a dark chasm of unknown and dangerous desires.  I was poised to fall.  I wanted to fall.  All I needed was that last push.

“Ten.  Now DROP.”