He blindfolded me and said don’t move when he came back he told me to stand up and then he guided me back onto a blow-up camping mattress. He violen...ly grabbed my arm and put the handcuffed rope around my wrist and tied it off on something but whatever it was I couldn’t get free of it. He grabbed my other arm and did the same. Then my ankles were tied. Then he untied my ankles and bent my knees up and retied my ankles but this time he put some kind of padded bar holding me knees apart tying me. “I wasn’t sure how welcome I would be,” he replied. “I mean after last time when I…”“Shhh! It was lovely,” I told him with a smile, turning my head around to kiss him on the forehead.“You’re not angry?”“Of course not. You were sweet.”Mark’s sigh of relief was so deep that it ruffled my hair. I could feel the tension leaving his body as my own relaxed closer into his strong masculine frame. The stroking of my arm resumed. A few minutes later the tiny kisses began to fall on my shoulders and the. It seemed like I wasn’t able to finish a single page without a new mind-boggling question from my precocious little girl Sally descending on me like plague of locusts distracting me from finishing a complete sentence.My Sally was in double digits now at ten years of age. She had already skipped a grade in school and we were considering placing her in one of those accelerated programs that kept gifted kids interested in the content off the material they were studying at school. Fortunately, we. Gee, thank you inherent detective skills culled from a childhoodof hearing your father talk about this crook or that crook, now I'msuspicious of everybody. When the hell did I become a detective?"Ms. Adamsen, it's a pleasure to meet you. And this is?" he pointed atme."Charlotte Harkins, my photographer," Ms. Adamsen answered for me, and Ilet her. Everybody knows the lowly news photographer doesn't answer anyquestions. I just stood back and took pictures. Of everything."So, Ms. Adamsen, what.
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