He closed my door and pushed me onto my bed. He sat on me, holding my arms so I couldn't move. “Fuck... fuck... fuck...,” he said over and over. H... must have said it a dozen or more times.I tried to get away, but I couldn't toss him off of me. “Let me up, let me up” I pleaded.Danny didn't budge. When I pleaded again, he moved so he was lying on top of me. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he whispered in my ear. “I'll keep saying it until you learn to say it also.”“No, Danny, I don't want too.” I had never. It was now a case of finding how the pipes ran in the cottage and seeing how I would best tackle the job. Anyway this involved me going into the loft to find one of the stopcocks. Perhaps Julie kept a nice tidy house, but her loft was a proverbial tip. It was a real mess with dust and cobwebs everywhere. By the time I had come down, I was in just as much a mess. I apologized to Julie for the mess I was in. She told me to never mind and she would sort out something later. What she meant, I had. More

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