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When he saw me descending the stairs he called out, 'Good Morning', and asked me if I wanted some coffee, to which I replied in the affirmative.He watched me walk towards him with the full sunlight behind me, making me more aware he was looking through the thin material of the t-shirt and possibly noting my lack of underwear, as the bulge in his underpants indicated, I was having an impact already.We were standing by the sink making small talk, when my husband called out his morning salutation and went into the upstairs bathroom.I seized the moment and reminded him about the smack to my arse and the mark he had left there.He stood with a dumbfounded look on his face, then a realization, confessing he thought he had dreampt it, and started to apologize again.I waited a moment and asked him to define, 'I thought I dreampt it', I was teasing him now, so I persisted, 'Do you dream these thing about me', then added 'Kinky', and laughed, which hopefully told him in an indirect way, I was. "Roy handed me a tazer and a brand new set of pliers. When he caught me examining the brand new tool he smiled, then took it back when he saw death in my eyes. "Damn," he said to Jack."This one is madder than the last time. He's got him some issues that even that bald doctor on Oprah couldn't cure. I am very glad he's here to see our 'guests, ' and not me. Something tells me they are not going to have a nice day..."Jack covered my back, while Roy led us to their quiet room. When we entered, we stood in front of the bright lights, so they couldn't see our faces. It wasn't going to matter either way. The quiet room was roughly ten by fifteen, furnished in modern American junk furniture, and brightly lit by temporary spotlights pointed in their faces. My hands hook as the rage took hold and changed me back into the guy who went into the bunker in the Everglades to deal with Tim Sanderson.There were six men shackled to wooden chairs. Left to right, Roy had them lined up in order of.
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