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Her tone waspleasant and neither triumphant nor boastful.Helena stepped forward and peered at me as if I was some sort of rareexhibit. "Hmm, so it wo...ld seem, Mrs Ermakova, so it would seem."Margaret Baxter, the psychiatrist, came over and sat on the side of mybed. "How are you, Irina?" she asked, concern heavy in her voice as shetook my pulse. A psychiatrist is also a doctor, remember?"Not good!" I answered, the words seemed too heavy for me to speak: mythoughts seemed heavy too. I an. No sense leaving it on the floor for one of them to trip over. "We'll have to do something about that." Yes." She tugs the end of his belt loose and unbuckles him. "Yes, we will."Before long, he stands before her, naked and about as hard as it's possible for a man to be. He holds his arms away from his sides, and she runs her fingers over him, touching him everywhere. His cheeks and his chin. His shoulders. His chest, and the plane of his belly. She takes his hips in both hands, and slides one. More

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