I wrote a book about her and because she was perfection; it sold. Then I wrote another, I did not think it was as good, it wasn't about her, but it so...d too. Pretty soon I had written half a dozen books, had movie deals with points, and I was rich. I was a cottage industry gone industrial.Why did I write that first book, guilt; I was a fraud.I cheated, and she never found out, but I lived with it. Every time I looked at her I knew I was a fraud. No matter what I did, I hated myself. I pretended. “Spread your legs,” he said. “While I put the spreader on.”Annie shuffled her feet apart and then he snapped the ends of the spreader onto her ankle straps. Then he took a length of rope, threaded it through the loop on her right-hand wrist cuff and secured it to her ankle. He then did the same with the left. She heard him get up and mve back to where the rucksack was. Then he came back over to where she was.“I'm going to put a blindfold on you now,” he said and she felt him lean over beside. More

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