“Part Indian, huh? I bet I know which part is Indian.”

And he reached out a hand and touched the part he had in mind. She put her hand on top of his hand, rubbed his fingers against her.

“A third Indian,” she reminded him.

“So you said. You know, I was wondering—”

She put her hand on him, curled her fingers around him. She worked him artfully, and he sighed.

“Lucky,” he said. “Man, I’d say I got Lucky, didn’t I? But I think I’m tapped out for this evening.”

“You think so?”

“You drained me to the dregs, babe. About all I can do right now is sleep.”

“I bet you’re wrong.”

“Oh?”

“What we did so far,” she said, “was just a warmup.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Can I ask you something?”

He raised his eyebrows.

“Have you ever been tied up?”

“Jesus,” he said.

“Just imagine,” she said, her hands still busy. “You’re tied up, you can’t move, and the entire focus is giving you pleasure. I’ll do things to you nobody’s ever done to you before, Hank. You think this has been your lucky night? You just wait.”

“Uh—”

“I’ve got all the gear in my bag,” she said. “Everything we could possibly need. You’re gonna love this.”

Handcuffs, silk scarves, nylon cords. She had everything she needed, and she knew just how to employ them.

The last time she’d done this she’d given her partner a couple of the blue pills first, and let them knock him out before she trussed him up. That had worked fine, but she’d been stuck with a two-hour wait for the son of a bitch to wake up, and who needed that?

This was much simpler. And he cooperated, putting his hands where she told him, spread-eagling himself on the bed. And making little jokes while she did what she had to do.