Being a good boy was wonderful. ‘Now for the fun part.’ She put her fingers in my ears. ‘What’s your name?’ she asked. ‘Hans.’ Her fing...rs dug deeper into my ears. My ratiocinations evaporated. ‘What’s your name?’ she asked again. I tried to remember. I made a long concerted effort to remember, but I couldn’t. ‘I… I don’t know,’ I said. It was distressing, and my face reflected my anxiety. ‘Shhh,’ she said, ‘It’s okay. Just be quiet now.’ Her fingers massaged my mind, and I eased. I thought. “Oh Ellen, you are sexy as fuck! I fancy you just as much today as I did the first night we met.” When they had reached the bedroom, she had stood and watched as he unclipped his bow tie. “Could you not have worn a proper one?” She’d giggled. “It shpoils the effect,” he had explained as he’d popped it off and threw it to her. She caught it, smiling, as he unfastened his dress-shirt and laid it over the ottoman at the foot of their bed, hips swaying like a bizarre, middle-aged, Chippendale. More

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