He then ties her wrist to the railing. ‘Left hand.’ She is secured to the railing facing the window, and can’t see a thing. His hands reach up...and undo the clip holding her hair up. It falls to her shoulders. He runs his hands through it, smoothing it. She feels him nuzzle into it, taking in its fragrance. He grabs it in his left hand, pulling it away from the right side of her neck. She feels his tongue contact her right shoulder, and then move slowly up the side of her neck, to just below. All I could do was lay there. Yes, it was a her; I could smell the faint scent of hair spray and perfume. I began to be able to pick out the sounds of her sobbing. I hope it wasn't for me.Hell I was 93 years old and it was probably my time to go.I heard another person enter the room, "How's he doing? Any sign of recovery from the stroke?" asked a female voice. It sounded like a professional so I assumed it was a nurse."Nothing, he just lays there," another female voice offered."Well I need to. More

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