'And I shouldn't have bothered to speak. I thought he'd freeze. I was too slow.' His voice held self-loathing. Martínez moved a hand dismissively.'An... I should have tried harder to understand her and foreseen that she'd be too impetuous. If there is blame to be shared we will share it equally.' It was a formal absolution and relief washed through me. The door opened and a hostess came in. She served me and put a pack of Fortuna and a Zippo on the arm of my chair. Martínez shifted in his seat. “Please, Sir, would you sit down or lift your foot for me?” she begged. “I want to please you, Sir, but I can’t get your shoes off if you won’t help me, Sir.”He laughed again, the clear, youthful gaiety cutting through Bridgette like a knife. She didn’t know why humiliation always made her wet, but it did. The more worthless he made her feel, the harder she tried to please him, to earn some small acknowledgement that she wasn’t completely worthless. Her fingers toyed with her clit, even if she. More

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