“The torturers love their victims,” I sauntered over to her, twirling the knife between my fingers, “for they give them unfettered truth.” I s...opped before Mother, so close I could nearly taste her breath. “Isn’t that all sex is? A desire to make someone react to you with whole-hearted honesty? Even the most descriptive sonnet cannot translate as much truth as a single breathy moan.” I slid the knife’s blade slowly up her thigh, watching the terror rising in her eyes, “Or one ear-splitting. "Iwant a chance at them before the world's spoiled them," he said at thetime.There was only one thing bothering Eric, he said; he seemed to berunning out of ideas for craft projects for his classes. That was whenGwen steered him to Memories Revisited, the scrapbooking store in themall."Diane is sooo creative," Gwen cooed. "She offers so many projects andclasses, I'm sure she can help you out." But isn't a scrapbooking store for women?" I suppose most of her customers are women, but I do see a. More

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