The hostess asks me how many, and I tell them I’m meeting someone. They ask a name, and when I tell them, they point me to a table in the back where...a person is sitting, facing away from me.I approach nervously. The person at the table, even though it’s from behind, looks nothing like Jace. The hair is styled. The clothes are too fashionable. Jace was a total jock, like Carl, but more fit and aggressive. The man I’m walking towards looks almost ... cute.“Jace?” I ask.He turns around and my. However she knew what danger there was in sitting there with her hands bounds and her pants down.But with every minute that went by she became more willing to take that risk. What were her options? To soil herself? To live the last days of her life in pissed pants? To sit in court and walk up to the hangman stinking and covered in her own urine? That was no way to go, not for a martyr as she had to become. And what was the worst thing they could do to her? It wasn’t like she was a virgin. That. More

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