For Quentin never knew.He was simply content to play this sadistic cat-and-mouse game which, after half and hour or so - and perhaps twenty viciously ...ard cuts later - usually had Carlotta weeping and begging hysterically. Not so much on account of the pain but because of the raw raggedness of her nerves.It was a wonderful moment for Quentin, surgingly rampant, to take her. Either slowly and surely, with easy rhythm... or with a kind of bestial savagery.The method simply depended on his. “You don’t seem to be the type to hurt women.”I shuddered. “‘Good boys don’t hurt girls.’”She pulled her head away from her hands. Her eyes went straight to mine. I locked my look into her gaze.“Sherry said I should ask you about a scar.”If I had thought about it, I wouldn’t have done it, but I didn’t think about it; I did it.I stood up and held my hand out for her to take it. She reached up, and we grasped each other. I pulled her up.Holding onto her hand, I lead her to the restrooms. Again, I. More

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