New Hope Technologies was far from being the elaborate high-tech building Sandra assumed it would be. It was a normal building, three stories high, and barely half a block square. Of course, it was modern in design, white brick with wall-sized windows looking out onto the street outside. The roof held several large black solar panels and the front door was double-sided with the initials NHT in black letters. She stared at the exterior as Harvey pulled the car up to the front entrance and shut off the engine.

He had traded in the usual limousine for a small Mercedes Benz sedan, luxurious and expensive, as all of Creighton’s vehicles seemed to be. He stepped around to open the back door as two of the building’s security pushed the double glass barriers open. Sandra wrapped her hand inside her husband’s as they entered the main lobby, being greeted with smiles from the men holding the doors open. They seemed friendly, though she couldn’t understand what was being said. They were once again in France and she was a novice to the language.

The lobby was very elegant with tiled floors, beige walls, and an area at the base of the large half circular metal stairs filled with potted plants in a variety of sizes. A large reception desk stood across from the double doors, with a tall attractive young man who looked to be around twenty-two, with reddish-brown hair and a matching goatee. He wore a black suit with a name tag that read Phillipe, a white shirt and black tie. Next to him sat a very pregnant woman. Sandra estimated her to be around her own age, with short curly blonde hair and freckles across her face and neck. She had the brightest blue eyes Sandra had ever seen and her smile seemed to take up most of her lower face. Like her partner, she wore a black jacket and tie with a white shirt and a name tag that read Oriel.

Creighton stepped up to the counter and shook Phillipe’s hand and then Oriel’s who blushed redder than Sandra ever could. He spoke to both in French and turned to Sandra introducing her as Madame Ashford. She smiled when they both nodded, hoping she didn’t look as awkward as she felt. She had grown used to Creighton using the title when they were alone, or when they had traveled to France to find Aryana, but this was the first official time he introduced her as his wife since the title became legal. She was amazed at how easily he spoke her new name and felt slightly embarrassed. It had yet to sink in that she was no longer a Dennis.

They walked up the stairs to the second floor and past several offices, some with open doors, others closed. She walked beside him to the opposite end of the hall to a door with a sign that read Recherché et Développement; Personnel Autorisé Seulement. He penned a code into a small security panel on the framework and listened to the click of the lock. With a childish grin, he pushed it open and allowed her to walk in ahead of him.

The room was larger than she would have expected, with a number of stainless-steel workstations, all with microscopes, computers, and an array of tools and equipment she had never seen before. The walls were encased in frosted glass panels which allowed light to filter through, but no spectators to see in. Above each workstation hung a large florescent light and the half dozen workers turned to watch them approach, all in hospital type lab coats. Their shoes were hidden with blue covers and they wore dark blue gloves and white masks over their noses and mouths. Sandra smiled. It looked like something straight out of a sci-fi movie.

Creighton handed a lab coat to Sandra, along with a surgical style mask then put on the matching garment across his broad shoulders. He greeted a tall black man as he approached, shaking his hand and smiling. It was the same man she had seen in the photo from Kansas. Sandra listened as the two discussed their plans for their honeymoon in English and she was instantly aware that he had been at the reception, though she couldn’t remember seeing or meeting him. Then again, she had met so many people, she was amazed she could remember the ones she had.

“We’re about ready to try out the prototype,” Creighton’s engineer, Lawrence Alexander, said as they walked to a nearby metal table and retrieved a file of papers. “It should be ready to test in a couple of weeks.”

“That sounds great,” Creighton replied. “What about the range, were you able to increase it?”

“Yes and no. If we can piggyback on a communication satellite, we’ll be able to increase the range to several hundred kilometers. Otherwise, it will only have a twenty-kilometer radius.”

“That’s not good enough. Have Brian contact the satellite phone services and try to get one on board. We’ve made enough dishes for them; they can repay the favor. With this technology, we can practically eliminate abductions within a fortnight.”

“I’ll have him get right on it and I’ll have the prototype sent to you in a few weeks.”

“Perfect,” Creighton said with a smile, picking up the small device with a pair of long-handled tweezers. It looked like a thin computer chip, only a few millimeters in size, and Sandra frowned as she looked at it.

“It’s not very big,” she said, bringing the two men’s eyes to her as though they had forgotten she was there.

“That’s the purpose, darling,” Creighton told her. “The smaller the device, the less noticeable it will be. Easier to hide so anyone trying to steal a child, a person, even an animal won’t be able to locate it. It’s like the anti-theft devices on cars. When one gets stolen, the security company can locate it and take control of the engine.”

“It’s amazing,” she said, watching him set the small chip back on the foam disc inside the round glass dish he had lifted it out of.

“It’s revolutionary.” Creighton’s tone was once again as an excited child. “The hope is to make it affordable for everyone, so no child, or adult, for that matter, will ever have to fear. Kids can play without worrying that some creep will come up and steal them away, women won’t have to worry about working late at night and men will feel safe enough to walk down a dark alley. There is not only a tracking signal but with an external button - say a shirt button or maybe even an earring, a person can press it and instantly get help sent to them.”

“Like the car security system, my sister has,” she commented. “If she’s lost or runs out of gas, anything like that, she presses a button and she’s connected to a company that sends help.”

“That’s exactly what it will be like. Anything can be tracked down anywhere in the world.” Brian added.

“We set up a security company about four years ago that is so advanced, you can turn on your house or car alarm from anywhere on this planet,” Creighton continued. “The problem with using that system for this device is that we need to locate, not communicate. Like the GPS chips in phones, this will track down a device and transmit its location back to the company without the person in possession being aware of it. Our security systems use a different type of satellite, so we need to find one that has GPS capability, or arrange to build one of our own, which would take several more months, even another year or two. I don’t want to wait that long. I want this up and running as soon as possible.”

“That’s amazing. I would never have considered so much went into such a small object,” Sandra commented.

“Haven’t you ever heard that size doesn’t matter?” Creighton teased her, causing her to blush.

“I have heard, but until now I haven’t seen a physical example of it.”

Creighton’s smile widened as Brian cleared his throat and Sandra fought to keep herself from giggling.

“We have to go check in with Michelle,” her husband said, slipping his arm around her waist before turning back to Lawrence. “Let me know when we can start the tests. I’m very interested in the progress of this device.”

“Yes sir,” he answered shaking first his employer’s hand and then Sandra’s. “Just as soon as Brian has a service interested, we’ll be ready to go. I want to try making the prototype a little more fashionable for the testing. Something people will want to use, or even wear, without feeling embarrassed.”

“Perfect. I won’t be available by phone for the next couple of weeks, but I will be checking my email as time permits. Send me the details and updates that way. And Larry,” he continued. “There is a very large bonus in it for you and your staff once the testing is done.”

“Yes sir,” the darker man said again as the rest of the workers looked to the two men, mouths hidden behind masks, but their eyes shined with excitement. Creighton and Sandra stepped out the door, pulling it tightly behind them as he led her down the hallway to a lift at the other end.

“That was very nice of you,” Sandra said once they were encased in the steel box alone.

“They have worked on this project for over two years,” he said with a smile. “Even if it takes another year to get it to the testing stage, I will make certain those involved are compensated for their time.”

“You are a very kind sir, Mr. Ashford,” she teased, leaning her head against his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around her slender waist.

The doors to the lift opened far sooner than either would have preferred, and Sandra looked up, spying the elaborately decorated room beyond. Like the one downstairs, this one too had a variety of potted plants in various sizes located throughout the room. There were four desks, two on either side of the room, with the same glass window panels as the main lobby had. The floors were covered in a thick soft grey pile carpet and the furnishings were blonde oak.

At the far end of the room was a larger desk than those facing each other, and behind it sat Michelle Dubois. She smiled as the doors opened and stood, revealing the very tight mauve colored dress and matching stiletto heels. Her hair had been pulled back in a bun, similar to those Sandra would wear back at the library, but hers was softer with strands of long hair beside her temples and down the back of her neck.

Creighton guided Sandra through the room, pausing to introduce her to the women who were busy with correspondences, payroll, and accounting. There was Stephanie Meyers, a British intern from Oxford who was working under the direct supervision of the accounting manager, Marie Laurent, who sat at the desk next to her. Across for them was Daniel Keen, who sat next to an empty desk. His dark suit and pale blue shirt looked as though he had slept in them, his tie slightly lopsided as was his smile when he stood to greet them. He looked tired and a little undone and Sandra frowned when she shook his hand.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, nervously adjusting his tie and tucking in his shirt. “Aryana was at hospital last night after we returned to France. I must look a fright.”

“Is everything alright?” Sandra asked with a deeper frown.

“Oh yes, she was having preterm contractions and we thought there was something wrong, but the doctor said she was just exhausted and had been doing too much over the past few days. He’s ordered her to bed until we see him again on Thursday.”

“She did have a very busy week, and you should really be home with her,” Sandra insisted, glancing at Creighton, waiting for him to respond in the manner she was silently willing him to do.

“I agree,” he added, looking at his wife as if to say he understood her meaning. “Take the rest of the week off and take care of your wife. I’m sure Michelle wouldn’t mind if you did your work from home. Just check in with her during business hours and come back when the doctor says it’s alright.”

Daniel’s eyes widened, and he glanced from the two people in front of him to Michelle who was smiling sweetly, almost motherly to him.

“Oui,” she said when she stepped up to Sandra’s side. “I already told him this, but he is très têtu. He did not want to imposition anyone with his work.”

“That’s silly,” Sandra said with a scowl. “You go home and take care of your family. If there are any problems with your boss, he will have to address them with me.”

Creighton fought back the amusement by hiding it beneath a soft cough, but his smile remained as his arm tightened around her waist.

“You heard the lady,” he told the boy. “I don’t want to hear that you are back to work until Aryana is stable.”

“Yes sir,” Daniel said, his expression filled with a mixture of shock and uncertainty.

He turned to Sandra and shook her hand, smiling a little brighter than he did a moment ago. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“The name is Sandra. Just because your boss insisted that I marry him, doesn’t put me above you in any way.”

Creighton narrowed his eyes to his new bride and Michelle laughed as Daniel turned a shade whiter.

“Let me know if there are any problems,” Creighton told him, shaking his hand in turn. “Michelle will take care of everything you need to set up shop at home.”

He glanced to his assistant, who nodded, then walked with Sandra to the door next to Michelle’s desk and opened it. Once again, she walked through first and smiled as he closed the door, locking the handle.

“So, I insisted that you marry me, did I?’ he said, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her back against his chest.

“Well you did,” she answered with much less force then she intended. “You kept threatening to keep me tied to your bed until I agreed.”

“And I suppose you hated the idea of being tied down?”

He nuzzled her neck above the peach-colored blouse as he spoke, his hands caressing the soft fabric of her off white pants, very much aware that she was completely naked beneath them.

“I never said that,” she moaned as his fingers moved to the zipper on the front of her pants, then slowly slid it down. “I merely said you insisted.”

“Then I assume, if I were to take you to my desk and insist that we make more delightful memories for my long boring meetings, you wouldn’t object?” Sandra felt her stomach jump as his fingers moved beneath the zipper and began caressing her soft skin.

“You have an office full of people,” she argued weakly, his hard erection pressing into her bottom.

“The door is locked, and nobody will interrupt us. All it means is that I have to make certain you don’t scream. I think I can find a way to keep your mouth occupied for a while.”

Creighton turned her in his arms, kissing her lips softly. She slipped her tongue inside his mouth when he coaxed her, playing the familiar sparring game she loved so well. They stood there in the silence of his office, their mouths pressed against each other hard, their tongues battling until she moaned deep in her throat.

“So, my love, do I have your permission to shag the hell out of you in my office?”

“Bring it on,” she smiled, as he walked with her to the large wooden desk and quickly removed her blouse and bra.

“I want you completely starkers,” he insisted, lifting her to sit on the edge of the desk as he sat down in his chair.

He lifted her foot, removing her mule pumps one at a time, kissing the sole of each bare foot in turn. He looked up at her and very slowly slid his hands up the inside of her thighs as he pressed her legs wider apart, up over her hips to the waistband of her pants where he hooked his thumbs into the loops. With a quick tug, he pulled her back to stand on her feet between his legs, and slowly began to ease her pants down. His smile widened as her pants slid seductively across her buttocks and down her long slender legs to the floor where he bent over and pulled them off her feet, tossing them aside.

“Much better,” he told her in an approving tone. “I think I like your new habit of no knickers. It makes playing so much easier.”

“Are you just going to play, or are you going to shag me like you threatened?”

“Oh baby, I’m going to do both.”

Creighton lifted her back onto his desk, smiling as she gasped at the cool wood that pressed against her bare bottom. With a wicked grin, he removed his phone from his pocket and fussed with the buttons for a moment before sitting back in his seat and spreading her legs wider. Before she knew it, the phone’s camera snapped, and he smiled.

“What the hell?” she exclaimed, trying to close her legs when he pushed them apart with his elbows.

“I told you, I wanted pictures of my initials,” he answered her simply. “I promise to keep them private and for my eyes only, so relax.”

“Pictures? Plural?” she asked when he stood up.

He slipped his free hand around her waist, holding her arms back so she couldn’t cover her body as he snapped another photo, this one of her breasts.

“Very nice,” he whispered, leaning in and sucking hard on one nipple.

Sandra quickly lost her resistance to fight as the familiar tingling began to caress her, his hot mouth playing with the round globe of her breast, his teeth nipping at her nipple until she moaned. Her head fell backward, and she heard the camera click, but she no longer cared. The idea of having him take her picture, for his own pleasure, was somehow erotic.

“Good girl,” he grinned, turning her to lie across the length of his desk and climbed up to straddle her hips. “Just relax and experience this new game.”

He smiled at her soft blush and raised his camera again. Five long hot minutes passed before he was content with what he had done and set his phone aside.

“Now, my darling, I will reward your bravery and courage.”

He moved to the end of the desk and bent over, his mouth covering his initials across her body as his tongue bathed the tender flesh, his fingers slipping eagerly inside her moist opening, and he grinned.

“Your body is tattling on you again,” he said, playing with the moisture that pooled between her legs. “You enjoyed the erotic passion of having your photo taken, didn’t you?”

Sandra blushed as his fingers spread apart her labia so he could explore her more thoroughly with his tongue. She relaxed across the wooden surface and moaned, lifting her feet to the edge and spread her legs apart as wide as she could to allow him free access to all her most intimate parts.

Creighton took full advantage of her position and savagely began suckling her clitoris, as he slid two fingers into her throbbing body. Within a few short minutes, she felt the welcoming dizziness overcome her, and before she realized what was happening, he had climbed back up on the desk, completely naked, his feet near her head, his mouth kissing her tummy.

“You have to keep quiet,” he warned her, lifting his hard penis toward her lips and caressed them with the moist tip. “Since I don’t happen to have a handkerchief with me, I’ll have to find another way to keep your mouth occupied.”

Sandra giggled, feeling the heat rise up her neck and across her face, as she began licking the tip of his erection with her tongue. He moaned softly, then reached behind her head and pulled her closer to him, encompassing him inside her mouth and throat. He guided her across him for several long moments, before moving his attention back to his previous actions.

His tongue began to caress her again, bathing the length of her labia with its moist heat as he rolled her to lay across the length of him, sucking each lip into his mouth in turn before spreading them apart again, and suckling her clitoris. His fingers moved inside her with an eagerness that matched her attention on his erection, and within a few moments, they were enjoying the joined climax this new situation produced.

Sandra held him in her throat for a few long seconds, feeling him quiver and throb as he spilled his seed. She moaned when he licked her and played with her womanhood, taking her through the doors of orgasm. She kept him inside her mouth as she exploded against his lips, relishing and surrendering her need in a few precious moments.

Creighton rolled her back over beside him when they were both satiated, panting, and listening to Sandra’s heavy, breathless sigh. He smiled as he looked up at the ceiling then laughed, reaching over and caressing her stomach. She leaned up on her elbows and looked at him with a frown, causing him to laugh harder.

“I’m sorry,” he said before she had the chance to yell at him. “It’s just that I’ve never made love to a woman in my office before, especially on my desk. I’m actually looking forward to my next meeting so I can dream of you.”

“You’re a deviant,” she teased, his large hand stopping her from climbing off the desk.

“Where are you going?” he argued, sitting up and pulling her back. “We aren’t finished.”

“You’re pushing your luck, Mr. Ashford,” she gasped. “Your staff can come in at any moment.”

“Not only is the door locked, but Michelle wouldn’t let anyone in. We’re newlyweds, remember? That makes a huge effect on the interruption factor.”

Creighton climbed up across her as he spoke, stretching out over her slender frame. She smiled at him as she yielded to his demands. It was true, they were newlyweds and his entire staff was probably very much aware of what was going on behind the closed door.

“Relax,” he told her, kissing her cheek and neck. “If you really don’t want to do this, we can wait until we get back to the flat.”

“I’m just worried about getting caught. I’m not so sure if this is something you want to have spread among your employees.”

Creighton sighed and leaned up on his elbows.

“If the only thing I have to worry about is my employees knowing I’m making love to my wife, then it’s a rumor I’ll be happy to live with.”

“Deviant and romantic,” she teased him.

“So, do we do this now, or wait?” he asked her with a wicked grin.

“I don’t know if you can wait that long,” she said, feeling the hard evidence of his desire pressing against the moist opening of her vagina.

Creighton chuckled under his breath, slipping inside her without hesitation, kissing her lips as he began a slow thrust.

“I can wait forever if I need to,” he told her. “I waited for two years. What are a few more hours?”

“Just in case you can’t wait, then what?”

She felt the strange eruption of nerves tingling her lower limbs and gripping her abdomen. It was amazing how easily aroused she became just with a few simple acts on his part, and so quickly.

“I suppose I could beg you. I know a good way of bringing you around to my way of thinking.” Sandra moaned softly as he thrust into her deep, followed by a contented sigh that assured her he was aware of her submission.

Several long full thrusts and she no longer cared what happened, or who knew she was spread out across his desk. All she wanted was to experience the wonderful, dizzy embrace of orgasm again. Her desires were answered a few breathless moments later, as her need grew to the familiar height of release, and she drew a deep breath, just as Creighton covered her mouth with his. He absorbed her cries and silenced her moans as he joined her, filling her with heat and passion that matched her own. Thrust after thrust, and she felt like she was spiraling through a tunnel of heat and desire. Unable to speak, yet free to absorb as much as he offered.

They lay embraced, stretched out across his desk, basking in the afterglow of their lovemaking. Sandra couldn’t help but giggle, causing him to stare at her this time. He furrowed his brow as he leaned up on his elbows.

“You’re beginning to make a habit of laughing after I make love to you,” he said, his tone humorous though his expression was scolding. “My ego may not survive.”

“I’m sorry, I was just thinking about your next meeting,” she told him, watching the smile cross his full lips. “How are you going to explain your odd expressions, or your arousal, when you sit down behind your desk?”

Creighton laughed, kissing her lips softly before leaning up on his knees and pulling her to sit in front of him.

“I will simply say I was thinking about you. It won’t be a lie, because I will be.”

Creighton hugged her against him before climbing off the desk and pulling her down, setting her feet on the floor, and gathering their clothes.

“What else do you need to do here?” she asked, watching him pull his pants up across his firm buttocks.

“I need to check in with Brian about the Kansas project, but I can do that over the internet if you want to leave.”

“I was just thinking that I am getting hungry and I’d like to take a nap. I didn’t sleep very well last night.”

She dropped her eyes when he looked her way. She knew the reason she didn’t sleep was her own fault, and there was nothing she could say to excuse her actions from the previous night.

“Then let’s get some lunch and go back to the flat.”

Creighton wrapped his arms around her and kissed her tenderly for several long seconds, tactfully ignoring the subject of her fatigue.

His flat was very impressive, with four bedrooms, three baths, a living room, a kitchen with an eat-in dining room, and an office. Everything was spotless and very contemporary in design. The furnishings were basic beige, wooden floors, and every creature comfort one could ask for. There was a flat-screen television in each bedroom and living room, a wired satellite stereo where you could listen in every room or just one, depending on your mood. There were skylights in the living room and hallway, and the kitchen was stainless steel and granite. It was pure luxury and Sandra smiled thinking about how much she had to get used to, and how, deep down, she may actually enjoy it.

They had stopped at the restaurant they ate at last week and enjoyed the buffet before returning to the flat, where he lifted her in his strong embrace and carried her across the threshold. Sandra sighed as he set their bags in the living room. She felt exhausted, whether from the argument the night before or the events that led up to it, she wasn’t certain. She walked to the sofa and sat down, kicking her shoes off and placing her feet on the black wooden coffee table. Creighton walked to her side and sat beside her, kissing her temple before pulling her into his embrace.

“Why don’t you go lay down for a while,” he suggested. “I promise to let you rest.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I need to get in touch with Brian and see what’s going on with the plans for the plant in Kansas.”

“I’d rather stay out here if I won’t bother you?” she asked, leaning her head against his shoulder. “I don’t know if I’m sleepy or just tired.”

“I’ll be in my office, so you won’t bother me at all,” he assured her. “The kitchen is stocked if you get hungry or want a snack, and the television has a full satellite set up, with movies and music. I shouldn’t be more than a couple of hours and then we can decide what to do afterward.”

“I’ll be fine. I think I’m just going to read for a bit.”

“Then I’ll leave you to it,” he said.

Sandra accepted the kiss he offered her and watched him stand up and walk to the kitchen, removing two large bottles of water from the fridge. He handed one to her then gathered his laptop bag. He winked at her before leaving the room to retire to his office.

She smiled as she pulled Miriam’s book out of her bag and curled up on the sofa. The soft sounds of the city hummed through the closed windows, drifting up the ten floors to her husband’s flat. It was such a lovely feeling. Sitting, reading, loving her life at that exact moment without a single care in the world. She opened her book and flipped to the marked page she had stopped on her last day in Italy.

Miriam had explained about her first sexual encounter with Creighton and the lessons she had provided him, her first encounter with a female, and the first time she and three girls from her school in Paris had spent the night teaching each other the pleasures of their bodies. She flipped the page to the new chapter entitled My Father’s Shadow and began reading.

My father was a refugee from Germany; a former soldier who had once been in charge of interrogating the enemy,” she read. “Two years after they had escaped their home and arrived in England, I was born, but my mother was ill and very weak and was not destined to survive. She died within hours of giving me life. With the death of my mother, came a huge responsibility that no father should ever endure alone. I have often thought that perhaps I could have been a better daughter; more obedient, more tolerant of his rules and demands, but that entirely aside, my father was the person in whom I learned my lessons on love and discipline.

Sandra found her eyes becoming heavy as she read, the words mingling among each other like a foggy daydream. She repositioned herself, tucking her feet beneath a blue throw at the foot of the sofa and lifted the book again, continuing the story.

Up until my fifteenth year, I never knew my father had a love interest. I had never seen him with a woman, never heard him speak of one, or arrange a rendezvous. It wasn’t until one night, late in the last days of autumn that I was awoken with a knock on our front door when I was to learn my father was more than just a man. The wife of a local merchant had arrived around midnight, distraught and tearful. She had been beaten by her husband, her face swollen and bruised. I hid in the darkness of the stairs and listened, watching as they sat on the divan, my father’s arms around her, allowing her to sob into his shoulder. She was a very attractive woman, mid-thirties with long brown hair and big brown eyes. She was married to a man nearly twenty years her senior, and had never had children. The local teenagers used to gossip that her husband’s war injury had left him impotent, sterile, and mean.

Sleep began to encompass Sandra again, and her eyes drifted closed, only to have her open them suddenly and force herself to focus on the words.

My father took her to the basement, where my cousin used to stay, and told her she was welcome to remain as long as she needed. He would take care of her husband if he tried to harm her again. He never mentioned her to me. In fact, he acted as though nothing out of the ordinary had occurred, and I did not see her during the day, or at meals. Three days later, after we had finished eating and I sat doing my homework, he told me I needed to go to bed early. He said he had some work in the basement to do, and that I was not to come down there. I gathered my belongings and went to my room, though I didn’t stay long.

Sandra’s eyes slowly drooped a little further. Sleep was beginning to win out.

An hour later he came into my room to see that I was asleep. I had shut the light off and lay beneath the covers pretending as any teenager would when there was an event of great interest about to take place. My father was obviously convinced by my performance and left my room, going into the basement and closing the door. I snuck down the old wooden steps a few minutes later, staying as close to the wall as possible to avoid the creaking wood giving me away. My father had a specific room in the basement he would use to test new products for his business. The light was on, and the room where the runaway wife had been staying was empty. I was proud of myself. My steps were as light as a church mouse, as I crept to a hole in the sidewall of the room, and looked in.

Sandra’s ears began to buzz with the stillness of the room, her breathing becoming more rhythmic as her battle to continue reading was quickly being lost.

My father had the woman in the room with him. She was completely nude and restrained against the brick wall. Her arms above her head and her legs parted. There were steel rings in the mortar where short chains had been placed, and she was cuffed tight to them, her slender body marred with yellowish-green splotches of healing bruises. In her mouth was a ball gag, and her nipples were clamped with small metal hinges.

As father moved, I could see that a vibrator had been inserted into her vagina with a leather strap, holding it tightly inside her body. I could hear the soft humming of its motor and thought of a picture from my history book of the inquisition, though she did not seem to be in pain. Just the opposite in fact. She was quite enjoying the feeling of the dildo. He stepped to her side. His clothing had been removed, leaving him stark naked, and in his hand was a long thin board, similar to a ruler. He struck it against her breasts, and she moaned. He struck her hip and again she moaned. It seemed all so wrong, but I could not stop watching.”

Sandra yawned, rolling to her side and propping the book up against the arm of the sofa.

The woman continued to moan as he hit her, not hard, but enough to cause pink marks across her flesh. It took barely five minutes and she cried out around the ball, her body tensing and her inner thighs becoming moist with her orgasm. My father laughed, removing the vibrator and ball, but kept the metal clamps across her nipples. He asked her how it felt to be beaten with passion and she smiled. She told him she loved him, and she wanted to stay with him forever. My father did not answer her but chose instead to kiss her as he inserted his erect penis into her. He shagged her hard, ruthlessly against the stone wall, slapping her across the breasts and the buttocks until they came together.

I had never known my father to be so cruel, but she was enjoying it, begging for more. I remained frozen to the small peephole watching as he continued to torment her, forcing her to climax over and over again.

When at last he released her from her chains, she collapsed on the floor near the sidewall from which I was watching. She was unconscious. A reaction to the many long hard orgasms she had endured. My father seemed like a different man and he lay on top of her, having sex with her as she panted in her sleep. After a few minutes and another orgasm on his part, he lifted her off the cold floor and left the room, carrying her back to the bed she had been sleeping in. He was once again the father I knew, gentle, strong, and caring as he tucked her in and kissed her lips softly. She moaned and whispered his name, bringing him to lie next to her on the old bed. Her arms wrapped around his neck and a small smile across her lips. They fell asleep embraced in each other’s arms and I thought for a moment of what he had lost when my mother died.

I watched through the hole in the wall over the next four nights, as my father repeated his actions on her, performing one unspeakable sexual act after another and becoming quite aroused myself. It was during those encounters that I discovered my own body and I would play with myself, watching her beg him for another orgasm. But then it all ended, abruptly.

My father had gone to London on business, assuring me that he would return in two days’ time. I went down to the basement that first night, but she was gone. There was nothing left except for the room where they had enjoyed their own style of lovemaking. The chains remained in the steel rings, the floor moist with water and what appeared to be dried blood, though he had never caused her to bleed that I saw. The bed was askew with sheets and blankets, and her clothing she had worn, and he had washed for her, was no longer lying on the floor where they had been for nearly a week. When my father returned, he seemed slightly distressed and I knew it was because of her leaving him.

Rumors began to circulate around town that she had left her husband and ran away with a secret lover. Perhaps my father was not the only man in whom she had been shagging, or perhaps she used this as an excuse to leave an abusive marriage. Either way, I never again saw my father with a woman. His basement room was returned to a place where he would work, and never did I mention to him what I had seen. Life slowly returned to normal and the world continued to turn.

Sandra’s eyes closed, and the book slipped from the sofa, landing softly to the floor. Somewhere between sleep and conscience, she heard the words repeating themselves behind her closed lids.

Rumors began to circulate around town that she had left her husband and ran away with a secret lover…I had never known my father to be so cruel…I remained frozen to the small peephole watching as he continued to torment her…the floor moist with water and what appeared to be dried blood.

Her eyes popped open when the words made their way past her subconscious and into that space of reality. Miriam had unknowingly solved the murder of Lynette Stone.