"You changed the prints, didn't you, Jack?" he said abruptly as he walked over to sit down opposite me across an empty table. He slammed down a folder..."Prints?" I asked disingenuously."Fingerprints," he snapped.I looked down at my hands curiously. "I didn't know that could be done," I said, deliberately misunderstanding. "Has plastic surgery become that advanced?"He glared at me. "The records, not your fingers," he said. "You changed them, didn't you?" How would I do that, sir?" I asked. Stephanie supposed it was a perfect storm of stress and pent-up desires that pushed her to exhaustion. Now she had to concentrate just putting one bare foot in front of the other.The cool tile of the bathroom floor woke her up a bit as the stranger guided her to the bidet and sat her down. Just how helpless she was had never been so clear to Stephanie. Yesterday was a kaleidoscope of emotions and sensations, but now, everything was as real as a concrete wall. Stephanie was his prisoner in her. More

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