”“Tell me.”“Like it shouldn’t. Hot. Hot and … and … and crazy-fucking-horny.”He clutched her breast and made her gasp. “Well that ma...es you a very bad girl, doesn’t it? Wanting to fuck a man like me. Doesn’t it, Brooke?”“I guess it does.”“A naughty, bold, presumptuous, immoral, slutty girl. I think I’m going to have to punish you.”“Punish me?” The word had a scary exciting resonance.“That’s right.” He began to walk her in reverse, still fondling her tit. She held onto him lest she stumble in. She places these on the coffee table as well, and then perches on the edge of it and finally addresses him. ‘I miss my husband, Mr. Blume.’ She unzips the leather bag, and pulls out a small dish from inside. ‘He was a violent man, lived a violent life. Never raised a hand to me or his son, though.’ Reaching into the grocery bag, she pulls out a small jar. Opening the lid, she uses a finger to scoop out a dollop, depositing it in the empty dish. Measuring carefully by eye, she pours steaming. More

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