The thirst is unbearable, the flakingwax a foul taste and unwanted reminder of the day. She is home. Pushing herselfup against the bars, she spreads h...r legs before her, rubbing away the fatigue.She was wearing heels this time last week. She had her own skirt. She had alife. Remembering this was worse than remembering the pain. Worsethan experiencing it, in some twisted and inexplicable way. A way that mattered. With a sigh, Sinead rolls onto her sideand waits. Hours pass. **** He returned. When we had concluded our business, he offered me a drink and asked me to tell him something about myself. As Craig had already observed several times, I drew other men's gaze to me and I could see that his eyes never left me and were often focused on my crotch, which as I have said earlier was put into focus by the tight pants and form-fitting thong which I had taken to wearing since my arrival in New York. I could sense that Mike was not just being polite but had something else in mind, and. More

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