On the wall hung a perfectly framed etching by Whistler, aside of a Peter Max lithograph. Two scrapbooks held pages and pages of autographs and signed...pictures. He was obsessed with possessions, and bragged about every one of them. Eleanor sat quietly with a book as Frank methodically escorted me through the whole unit. The most interesting thing I noticed was the double beds. Several weeks passed. Eleanor and I still walked every morning, but never together. There was barely a nod of. Martine whined and nervously mewed in nervous worry and tried to squirm and twist her body as she both hungered for Jean’s touch and feared it may turn into something to be feared at any moment. Jean picked up a crystal decanter of Cognac from the sideboard and poured a large glassful. Putting his hand roughly under Martine’s chin Jean forced her head up. He brought the glass of Cognac to her lips. “Drink up my dear. I have a special surprise tonight.” Jean tipped the glass back and Martine. More

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