Get off . . . on verbal humiliation.” I could barely believe I told him that. I felt a little embarrassed.“Really?” He seemed surprised. “You�...�re such a strong, intelligent woman. You have a Ph.D.”I thought for a minute. “I think that’s part of it. That’s part of why I need to feel taken, to lose control. I guess you can call me ‘Doctor Slut’ if you want.”We both laughed. The laughter calmed me down a little. It reassured me that we were still friends.“Alright. Make no mistake, Doctor Slut,” he. Not weird at all.”By now, the river was reaching the expected levels of activity for a Sunday in summer. Watercraft of all manner passed us, left and right, some going upstream, some going down, boats, many towing skiers or various inflated tubes and devices with happy passengers aboard.My forty feet and eighteen horsepower was no match, speedwise, for eighteen feet and a couple hundred grinding horses. Add to that dozens of jet-skis, weaving in and out, many of them looking for the wakes of. More

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