This is not the same woman I fucked last night as she walks around the bed dressed in her black stockings and garter belt, continuing to demean me and...make threats. My only thoughts are escaping.I am growing a little more concerned with each passing minute. She can't reach my cock in this position. I can't fuck her in this position. What in the hell does she have planned now? My question is soon answered as she returns from her dresser grinning and cutting the air with a wicked-looking black. I'd told her I'd call back if I got away, and I had—for now at least—and I needed to call.First Spook. I hit "Spook2589844640321" and "send" on the cell again, this time with more confidence that he'd pick up.He did. She did? It did? Who knew? And at this point I didn't care. "Good evening, Jack," came the simulated voice. A part of my mind noticed that he—or she, or it, whatever— knew what time it was, anyhow. Did that mean Spook was in my time zone, or close to it? "May we talk again now?". More

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