"Still in working condition," Rose chuckled, running her hand over it. "A torture rack. You see, you can hang the victim by their hands and feet, and turn them any way you want. Then stretch them." She smiled. "But we're much more civilized now."

"Yes," Gillian said, and then waited for them to sit down around the large sturdy table that also looked as if it had come out of the middle ages.

"I expect you're wondering why we brought you here," Dean said, standing close to Gillian and looking her right in the eyes.

"Yes, sir," Gillian said, looking down at the floor.

"Sometimes I have employees that haven't realized their full potential. I like to help them realize it." He stared at Gillian and waited.

"Ah, yes," Gillian gasped. "I didn't know. Mr. Pincher said that…"

"Mr. Pincher wants you out; you know why?"

"No," Gillian said, shivering.

"Because you wouldn't fuck him."

Gillian stared and her head jerked.

"You don't think you're good enough for that rat-faced little jerk, do you?" Dean asked.

Gillian didn't know what was going on. Rose was sitting down finally; crossing her legs in the long, tight, white leather dress she wore. The slit at the side showed more of her thigh than Gillian thought decent.

"Well, we're gonna show you that you're a lot better than that," Dean said. "We're gonna teach you all about sex and that. You didn't think this was a library discussion, did you?"

He grinned as Gillian went white and backed away, clutching her purse harder. "I-I don't like sex, Mr. Harper."

"Dean," he corrected.