Everything about her was perfect, as though Carson himself had been in the workshop when God had set about choosing the parts which would make up Kare...’s perfection. It wasn’t that she was perfect in a Playboy centrefold sense; it was just that she was perfect for Carson. Her laugh was more infectious than measles; her smile more warming than nuclear piles. Carson’s thoughts and dreams had been infiltrated to the point where he could barely function as a human being. He’d become obsessed… and. .. "Felicia?" Mistress?" The Wench stuck her head out of the bathroom door."Could I have some water?" Sure." The Wench filled a glass and brought it to her, cradling Sharon's head so she could sip. "I don't suppose asking YOU how many times will help..." No." The bathroom light reflected off the Wench's teeth as she grinned. "I'll give you a hint -- it'll be more than once..." Any idea what he has planned?" No. But you have that threat. Somewhere in between, I bet he decides that you have to. More

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