The operator continued asking if this was the James McDowell, 1808 Stone Street residence as I plastered myself to the floor. I whispered, ‘Yes.’ ...‘Karen I know you’re here. I know you’re here, you whore. I know you’re fucking him. Goddammit, where the fuck are you?’ More crunching glass, heavy footsteps. I couldn’t see what James was doing as I squeezed myself under the bed, taking the phone with me. The operator was asking another question, I couldn’t hear what. I saw James’ feet, braced. He wouldn't let me wear panties this time at all. When we got to an area that had a circular seating made of marble or similar material he said let's sit for a few minutes. I sat and immediately tried crossing my legs but he told me to leave both feet on the floor and not try to cross my legs but open them a few inches. I looked at him and told him I was naked under the skirt or did you forget? He said do it as the men were definitely noticing me. I was not wanting to but he kept telling me. More

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