In the middle of my small loft, a one room,airy, artistic studio, smack dab in the center of my bed, lying spread eagleupon the hand sewn quilt was a ...oman wearing nothing more than a red camisoletop, at least as far as actual clothing goes. A bright blue bandana, matching thecrystalline blue of her eyes, cleaved her mouth. Black leather cuffs circledher wrists, another pair, her ankles. Chains wereattached to the cuffs, stretching her limbs wide, binding them to the cornersof my four poster. It's Keith... Mrs Lowe... Keith Pressman!" Well Keith... I really should thank you for all yourassistance in helping my husband!" she smiled at him as sheturned on her heels and disappeared down the hallway.The next few days went by rather quietly.Mrs Lowe had not invited any more men back to the house forshe had chose to lock herself away in laboratory going overall the data that her husband had collected and stored forhis experiment.Keith wondered if his reminder at how her husband had. More

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