Most days, I dropped in to the 'warehouse' to use the gymnasium or the miniature range (the 'dungeon' was off limits) and to chat up my sisterinlaw. She was sympathetic but carried out Conrad's dictates to the letter. She offered me no sexual gratification or offer of employment in the role of white slaver, general bully-boy, which I had come to relish.The thought of demanding Joy's services on a regular basis didn't seem wise. Her girlfriend might decide to risk charging me with some offence if I made her life too difficult, despite the hold, my compromising home-video "I Was a Lesbian Cop", gave me over them both.I had lewd thoughts about Miss Throsbie who took a class in Computer Assisted Accounting Systems. She reminded me of the first woman I took against her will. Miss Howard, an English teacher, who became my sex slave. One day, I thought, I would teach the oh-so-prissy bluestocking a new definition of 'contraentry'.At a loose end that Saturday evening, I decided to return a. She wanted to believe Nick, but Clive had rarely been able to be honest about their arrangement. He usually claimed that she was just someone he’d met that he was helping out, even to her face.She swallowed and went on. “Nick, if you weren’t helping me, I’d probably have to go back to my old boyfriend. He’s old and kind of gross, but he paid my rent for years and he wants me back.” The next admission was hard, but she had to say it. “I’ve been a gold digger. If those words mean anything, they describe what I had with Clive. If that’s what you want from me ... that kind of arrangement, I’d rather say yes to you than to him.”To Emily, it looked like there was a war going on behind Nick’s eyes. She thought for sure he was trying to find a way to accept her offer that would leave his self-image intact, but he finally said, “Emily, is that what you want out of life? If you do, I can offer a lot better than...” He took a deep breath. “I’m not looking to take advantage of you. I couldn’t.
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