My fingers clutch like a vice, my knuckles a patchy white and red as I tug and strain. My Adam’s apple bobs, but I can’t choke down my spit. My ey...s dare not move from her just as hers are fixed upon me, wild and wide, even at the height of her ecstasy. She twists harshly in her seat as if a coil has snapped within her. An animalistic, vulgar noise groans from her gut and past her yawning mouth. The squelch of her fingers --dripping, sopping-- as they churn and tremble follows. Moments after. "Hullo? My name's Frances Baxter. The name won't mean anything to you, but we meet each morning as I'm on my way to work at the hospital. Several years ago you asked if I'd like to meet you for a coffee some time. Is it too late to take you up on your offer?"To say I was surprised would be a considerable understatement, so a lengthy pause ensued."Hullo?" the voice said again."I'm sorry," I said, "I was just a little surprised. Yes, the offer is still open; I'd be delighted to meet you. When and. More

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