He's raging against women. Against my body. It's not me he wants. He wants my shape, my form. The way I appear. He wants my countenance but not...my content. He wants. He wants. He's diabolical that way. He knows just how to twist the knife that little bit extra to make it just enough more worse. Yes, he must have had practice. Lots of practice. Why does my mind keep coming back to this? And all those times he's masturbated, thinking about. When he does so, I walk to the cupboard and pour him Glenlivet with a single ice cube. Sometimes he looks at mewhile I do so. As the evening passes, I feel more and more afraid, as theunavoidable time gets closer and closer. Eventually he rings a bell. I amalways startled by the sound of it. The French doors open and I follow Parkerup the stairs to the next floor. He always stops at the powder room at thelanding; he opens the door and watches me as I empty my bladder. Even after allthese times,. More

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