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I stared at him, my own perfect Adonis, his muscles rippling in time to his panting breaths, and he let me look, a knowing smile playing across his flushed face. My gaze travelled further down and I saw that he was hard, head purple and slightly leaking, reaching up towards me, and I needed him. I almost sobbed with need, hands reaching out for him. He waited another heartbeat, and then two, and I finally found my voice and whispered out a stuttered "Pl ... please, Alistair."The last syllable rose to a cry as he rushed back to me, arms around me, lifting, pressing, and suddenly he had my legs wrapped around his waist, his hands on my ass, and he was lowering me onto him. I tilted my hips slightly as I felt his tip brush over my sex, capturing him and holding the right angle as he filled me. He pressed my back against the door, holding himself still and letting me adjust to his size. I wasn't having that, my need was too great, and I awkwardly tried to thrust my hips against his,. The only significant changes to their facial featureswere the perpetual looks of astonishment expressed by their perfectly O-shapedmouths, propped open by the 3½-in. rings. Time elapsed: one hour, 23minutes. Dr. Lord looked at his stopwatch and noted 2.57.40, two minutes, 20seconds, short of the three-hour deadline. "Nurses!" he called brusquely. Twoteams of three nurses strode in quickly and disconnected Moira's and Isabel'sIV lines, Foley catheters and sticky monitor-contact pads and wheeled the gurneysinto the adjacent cell which was done over as an ICU. Isabel and Moira wouldsleep for another three hours before waking to discover Dr. Lord's intricate,evil work. The anesthetic ensured the last memory they had was of sipping teain the dining room and feeling ill. The six nurses, all sworn to secrecy, hadsigned papers to indicate they had read patients' statements, forged over Isabel'sand Moira's signatures that appeared in the hotel's registration book, statingthey had "requested".
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