.. "Well?" Roger asked. "I asked you a question, bitch." Oh, God, Roger, darling, don't torture me!" You did like it, didn't you?" Yes!" she blurted. ...Yes, yes, yes!" You fucking whore!" Yes, I'm a whore!" she cried, throwing herself against him and sobbing uncontrollably against his bare chest. "Oh God, Roger, yes I am!"He didn't touch her. "You act like you're proud of the fact." Nooooo!" she wailed miserably. "Roger, no, please, I'm not proud! I'm sick, just sick!" You goddamned well ought. She had found him, if the truth be known. Had taken him, controlled him. They had met after a couple of days, his life fleeting past, his work a blur. She had told him they would meet and he had agreed. She sent him an email, with the day, date and time. The place was a hotel. He knew it, had stayed there on business Now when he checked in it was different. As if everyone knew why he was there. He left a note, as instructed, for her to collect when she arrived. It detailed the room and that. More

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