’ ‘Oh, how’s that?’ ‘Well, if you spell it f-a-y as in Morgan le Fay then, I admit, I lack the supernatural skills but if, on the other hand, you spell it the boring was with an e on the end, then, yes, I am.’ She smiled. ‘I thought you might be. Lilly said I might try to prevent you from wallowing in your recent misfortune.’ The misfortune she was referring to was almost certainly the circumstances which had led to my being alone at the party instead of being accompanied by my faithless ex who had gone off to the United States to pursue her illustrious career. ‘I’m going alone,’ she had said. ‘I don’t want to be held back.’ What had made it worse was that she had said this on a Friday morning, precisely twelve hours after she had taken me to bed and fucked me senseless. The fuck was not unusual but the Friday morning conversation was so utterly unexpected that I’d had nothing to say, no words to plead or persuade; all I had was a numbness that left me speechless but by no means. We were together years ago. It was intense. S and M all the way, her always always telling me to go further, further. Whip me until I bleed. Take me to the farm. Get a dog. She was sick even then. I played with her, whipped her, shocked her, lent her out to other perverts but she always wanted more. And she found it. She dumped me for an older, richer, sexier man who she said knew how to give her what she wanted. Then, he got tired of her and sent her back. She came crawling back, telling me it was all a mistake. But I'd changed in the meantime too. And if she wanted to go all the way out there, I would do it. Fuck it. She'd made her wants clear.I looked at her body there on the metal table. Her knees were stretched to breaking, ropes pulled them open wide and upward toward her shoulders. A single leather strap across her hips kept her back against the table and her torso exposed. A metal collar around her neck and one more at each wrist kept her open and exposed. It was the minimum.
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