“You want to talk about that.” I pointed at his boner.“Yes,” he said. “You see what’s happening, don’t you? I told you these things want...to progress, and they’re progressing.”“I get that,” I said. “I’m comfortable with the way things are progressing.”“You’re not supposed to be comfortable!” he groaned.“Oh,” I said. “Okay, so I guess I’m supposed to wait how long? Two years? And then I can be comfortable with all this? So what do I do in the meantime? I mean you said these things progress, so I. Heavy footsteps on the stairs foretold the appearance of a livid Rachel. This was the moment he'd been fearing. If she produced a gun..."Damned if you'll eat again!" she spat. "Come here!" She wielded the scalpel.But Bill hung back and dared to shake his head. He was gambling that she wouldn't dare to enter his cell and didn't have any deadly weapons with range. He was prepared to try lifting his cot to the vertical to use as a shield. He was also gambling that no authority figures she called. More

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