He was suspended with his hands chained to a beam above his head. A man and woman stood before him staring at his body. The man was obviously from A...ghanistan dressed in the country's attire, but the woman was white, caucasion, obviously from North America somewhere. She was dressed in a very short skirt and very revealing top. Her makeup was exquisite. She smiled. The man talked to her in his own language and she seemed to understand. She kept smiling. Then she approached him. Jim. ‘Let me go, damn it.’ ‘Ask me nicely,’ he says again, this time closer, a whisper in my ear. ‘No.’ ‘No?’ Trying to break free, I wiggle on his lap. He chuckles. ‘Do that again.’ ‘No, let me go, perv.’ ‘I like it when you protest.’ He breathes warmly on my neck. His breath smells minty like his aftershave. He nudges my hair aside with his chin, smooth from shaving this morning. He kisses my shoulder where it slopes up to my neck. I don’t want to be angry. Not with him. I lean back. I tilt my. More

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