When he entered the back door, he wrinkled his nose; something didn't smell right, yet it wasn't a bad smell. Mike couldn't identify it...but Marci... could. It was the smell he usually smelled at Vaingirls, a mixture of makeup, nail polish, hairspray, etc., a VERY feminine smell. Mike was apprehensive; what the hell was going on? Marcie was delighted; play time! Continuing on autopilot, his dual personalities sending him mixed messages, Mike turned the corner into his family room. . Stunned, bleeding, I fell to the floor, legs jerking straight out. "Now the legs, Susan." She paused, calm again. "Tell me, sir, you don't mind if I call you asshole, do you? I mean no disrespect." Was she talking to me? "Uh, uh, I, no, I mean, no, I mean, I don't mind." Fuck, it hurt. And Susan was not knotting my ankles any more loosely than my wrists. and after all, I was anm asshole, wasn't I? Why should I take offense? The narcotic haze of passivity and submission I had always induced in. More

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