“Not very kind or welcoming, Claire.” His voice still had a touch of that superior reproving tone as if talking to a child.“I don’t feel ‘we...coming’. I wrote letters to you and got no reply. I invited you for Christmas and you made no answer. So I simply want to know what you suddenly want now. Then you can go.”“So you’ve moved on. You’re with John now are you? Living in sin?”His tone this time surprised her: it wasn’t censorious, judgemental or resentful, but resigned and weary. For the first. It?s always deeply humiliating for me towalk nude from your office, down to the company cafeteria ? my ass and innerthighs glistening with oily residue from the lubricant; my whole body stillnumb from the orgasms I have had to endure all morning. You have a chefwho always knows how you like to have me served up for lunch. He?s ready with astainless steel trolley, and I am bound on my back with my ankles tied backover my head near my wrists. I watch helplessly as he places various bowls. More

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