Days when I held in my mind her face, her voice, her words, her tone, her assurance, her nuances of expression, the look on her face as she spoke. Day... when I was sure that I'd failed, then hopeful I had not.Days when I wished I'd not said what I had, and had said what I hadn't. Days when I cringed at my clueless presumption when I asked for her name.Days of sitting in front of the screen and the keyboard, pressing Refresh in the hope of her answer, then pacing the room, then pushing Refresh. ‘No Adele’, he said quietly with a slight chuckle,’ I still require you, my darling.’ He pulls a sobbing Janie up off the floor and hoists her onto the table. Her face is a mess, mascara running from her eyes like black tears, her hair stringy from sweat and her mouth swollen from the onslaught. Still, I can remember a time when I’ve looked worse. Henson forces her legs apart and dips his fingers into her submissive form, twisting them around he pulls his fingers out and pushes them. More

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