She felt his hands on her narrow waist, felt him drawing her to him, felt the stiff and obvious bulge beneath his slacks.

The movie was already in progress, but she could tell she hadn't missed much. The girl, a young Chinese, sat on a red tipped couch… Christi he had filmed it right here, and she was reading a book and sucking on a popsicle. She was wearing a pair of blood red doll pajamas, and apparently naked underneath.

"That's my ex-secretary," quipped Mike, breathing huskily into Ann's ear, his hand lopping sinisterly around her narrow waist.

Ann sat speechless.

The young Chinese, was really beautiful. She had long, long black hair, and the most radiant olive complexion Ann had ever seen. Her eyes, glimmering black, sparkled mischievously as she read her Playgirl magazine, now spreading the center fold out so her anticipated audience could appreciate the blond Nordic male who sat lewdly naked in a sailboat, with only a sailor's cap on his blond head. The girl in the movie turned the pages quickly now, and with the other hand gripped the popsicle. Her lush sensual lips, coated thickly with deep red lipstick, slicked up and down over the shaft of the red popsicle in an obvious parody of sexual intercourse. The camera zoomed in for an extreme close-up of the girl's fleshy lips clinging provocatively to the penis-like fruit on the outstroke.

"I'm a photographer, did you know?" Mike boasted.

Suddenly a man appeared on the screen, a black man. The girl in the movie appeared frightened then, and Ann jumped as she felt Mike's hand on her naked breast, surreptitiously slipped under the blue peignoir unnoticed moments before. But Ann knew it was inevitable; there was no way she could leave that room unscathed and she vowed to make the best of it. In her nervousness, she suggested another joint as the first had left her pleasantly light-headed and more accepting of her fate.