"Where do you think you're going?" he said.

"Out of here," she told him. "I'm not impressed by your friend."

"Really? That's a shame," he said, massaging her shoulder as if he owned it. "Because my friend here was mighty impressed with what you had to show him a minute ago. I think he'd like to take a close up look at it, a kind of inside look."

"You're even sicker than your reputation makes you out," she said. "Dr. Demento."

"Cut it!" he snapped, squeezing her shoulder hard.

"You're hurting me!" she whined, trying hard to twist away from his hard fingers.

"I'm going to do a lot more than this before I'm through with you," he said. Without so much as a by-your-leave, he slipped his other hand down into the front of her tube top and scooped out her breasts, mauling them greedily, pulling the nipples and tugging at them.

"Stop it!!" she cried. "Stop it or I'll scream for help!"

"Like hell you will!" he said, continuing to fondle the sweet, supple pears. "I know your type. I know the kind of treatment you're looking for. And you've come to just the right place for it."

Joselyn, consumed by fury and panic, struck out with her nails, raking them across the back of his pawing hand.

"Hell!" he croaked, jerking his hand back. Four bright red welts marked it.

Joselyn blinked at him, her heart thudding up under her chin. For the second time that afternoon, she felt the horrible tension in her belly, the pull of the conflicting desires that plagued her. Was he going to be the one she couldn't handle? The man who just took from her… and kept on taking? Or would she stifle him in the end, make him squirm on the floor for the privilege of kissing her ass? For an interminable instant, she hung there in limbo, unable to do anything but gawk. Then the familiar pattern surfaced, the dominant part of her personality. Even as she did it, she knew she was making a grave error, but she couldn't stop herself. She laughed at him, a cruel braying laugh.