"Are you going to do this, or shall I?" she smiled. Bob stood up, loosened his belt, unzipped his pants and let them drop to the floor. Then he pulled down his undershorts, his cock slapping heavily against his stomach as it came free of the waistband. Carol stroked his fleshpole with her panties, breathing a count faster as she watched it pulse in the air. "Nice," she said, "why don't you put these on and see what it does for you?" Bob flushed, but couldn't deny the thrill the words gave him.He sat down and removed his shoes and socks, stepped out of his pants and slipped the red panties up over his legs. They were ridiculously inadequate in size, holding his balls but only about an inch of his cock. Carol came to him and cradled his silk-covered balls in her hand, hefting them experimentally. She flicked her thumbnail against the purplish head, then wrapped her arms around him and kissed him savagely. Her tongue and his dueled as she ground her skirt against him, shifting from side. Nothing at all. There's nothing in the briefcase. Of course, it was a red herring…" Robert's voice became faint and his eyes lost focus. "The whole purpose of the briefcase was to mislead the audience, to heighten the surprise here at the climax. This is the moment of final dramatic revelation, which is why my voice has become faint and my eyes have lost focus, physical details that communicate the emotional trauma I'm going through. It all makes sense, if you think about it." Charlotte closed the briefcase and patted Robert's hand. "And now it's time to go away. That was your entire character arch." "But can't I stay a little longer? Just one more page, one more paragraph, a few extra lines?" "I'm walking you to the door now, and now I'm opening it for you and saying good night." They stood in the doorway. "What will happen to me?" Robert said. "Is it like dying?" "Only real people die." "But I could almost be like a real person! People say that about characters, don't they,.
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