There were hickeys on my neck. 'What are you, sixteen?' I thought, rubbing the bruises anxiously. I got in the shower.The water spilled down my hair a...d over my shoulders. I felt like a new woman. I soaped up my arms, my legs. The suds gathered in the drain by my feet.Through the marbled glass I saw Maxwell's pink figure in the doorway."So, maybe I'll come in for a nooner," he said."A what?" You know, a massage. During my lunch."So he hadn't called out. Why did he offer to spend the day before?. My hands on the wood, worn smooth as leather with age and use, (I feel as though placed in stocks). My buttocks shove themselves backward - I have no method of control, no illusion of resistance. My ankles are now digging their sides into the hard wood underneath the s**ttering of hay. They are planted, firmly, some three feet apart. My ears hear my lips shuddering together, the mouth inside trying to make words. My back arches. I am now straight and stock still, my head an even plane from. More

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