Nick. Send us a picture, Livvy – I’d told her that, in my fantasies, I was Livvy, not Oliva. Olivia wouldn’t dream about fucking dogs. Livvy, ho...ever… Of me? Like a dirty picture? Your choice. You can even edit out your face if you want. Just curious.I wanted to. Badly. The idea was intoxicating. It was scary, though. In the end I sent a photo of me in a short skirt and a form fitting tee after cropping everything above my neck, though my hair was long enough that you could tell I was. Just like I expected: onemassive bruise. My whole chest and upper abdomen was a purple andyellowed mess. The bastard who shot me must've been close. K placedsome pillows behind my back to prop me up. My vision swam momentarilyand my head throbbed with the effort. I reached up and found a stickyspot near my temple."These will help with the pain," she said and for a moment, as shehanded me the glass of water and two white tablets, she actually lookedworried. Who knew the frosty secret agent could. More

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