Maybe it had been minutes, maybe hours. It didn't matter. This wasn't the first time they had made love that day. Of that, she was certain. And while...sure they had done it before, she couldn't remember if this was the second or third or maybe even the fourth time. That didn't matter, either. At that moment, Lynn couldn't even remember how many days they had been married, or how long they had been staying in this furnished, attic apartment while she crammed for her nursing boards, the. She carried her groceries in and all of her garage sale finds. She unloaded the bags, put things away, then came across the whip. She took it into the breakfast nook that sat outside under a gazebo with bushes all around for privacy and laid the whip upon the little table. She sat and stared at the crop and many o thoughts ran through my obviously unimaginative brain. Her fingers caressed it. Ran it up and down. Feeling the roughness of it. Getting to know every ridge and bump. She must have. More

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