His hand stole out again, caressed her left breast, then squeezed it painfully. He finished this unpleasant bit of business by pinching her nipple, a thing he had never done before.

“Ow, Gerald! That hurts!”

He gave a solemn, appreciative nod that went very strangely with his horrible grin. “That’s good, Jessie. The whole thing, I mean. You could be an actress. Or a call-girl. One of the really high-priced ones.” He hesitated, then added: “That’s supposed to be a compliment.”

“What in God’s name are you talking about?” Except she was pretty sure she knew. She was really afraid now. Something bad was loose in the bedroom; it was spinning around and around like a black top.

But she was also still angry-as angry as she had been on the day Will had goosed her.

Gerald actually laughed. “What am I talking about? For a minute there, you had me believing it. That’s what I’m talking about.” He dropped a hand onto her right thigh. When he spoke again, his voice was brisk and weirdly businesslike. “Now-do you want to spread them for me, or do I have to do it? Is that part of the game, too?”

“Let me up!”

“Yes… eventually.” His other hand shot out. This time it was her right breast he pinched, and this time the pinch was so hard it fired off nerves in little white sparkles all the way down her side to her hip. “For now, spread those lovely legs, me proud beauty!”

She took a closer look at him and saw a terrible thing: he knew. He knew she wasn’t kidding about not wanting to go on with it.

He knew, but he had chosen not to know he knew. Could a person do that?