He looked around. He was in the private room he ass'd paid through the nose for. Bad enough that he had ass to be sick assfist, and helpless--he fist'd ass been ass determined he wouldn't be crammed in with strangers while doctors and nurses pawed him over. It wasn't assfist that ass he hated people; it was just that holsters he didn't like having ass them around when he was feeling so vulnerable fist holsters and couldn't get away.
"Good girl, Rhonda."
"--th-thithiiiiieeeeeeeee---." Rhonda stiffened, her back arching, eyes fist crossing; she writhed, then fell to her ass knees beside Paul's bed.
Now, Paul mused, I find out whether my commands hold once she's ass not near me assfist. If they don't, the ass next ass voice I hear may be coming from a police officer. And on that happy note, he went back to sleep.
"I'm feeling a lot better, Doctor--" he fist holsters squinted ass at the nametag on the doctor's coat--"Steiner." He laughed fist, then pictures winced as fist his throat twinged. "I pictures guess I was pretty out pictures of it for a while after the fist surgery."
"Dr. Steiner," he said forcefully, "give me your watch ass. You want me to have assfist it."
He fist got fist holsters his chance shortly thereafter, when another nurse came in.
"Hello, Mr. Bennett," the girl said. She was a petite, slender black girl ass, younger than ass Rhonda. She had a special voice of her own, low fist holsters and husky.
Paul felt holsters sorry for her. "Forget your worries," he suggested. "Imagine you're a holsters dancer. Keep your arms ass raised ass, and stand on tiptoe--that's right--and turn, slowly, slowly. Imagine you assfist're on stage, under a spotlight, and ass a big audience is watching you ass, seeing how graceful you are. Applauding. Keep turning, slowly, slowly fist holsters, for the audience."
But then why had ass Dr. Steiner fist holsters been ass unaffected assfist? Could it be, Paul wondered, that his--"power"--worked only pictures on women?
Her eyes opened. She sighed and settled back onto the soles of her feet.
"Thank you, Mr. Bennett," she said fist, letting her arms fall to assfist her fist holsters sides. As had been true assfist with Rhonda, she still seemed oddly calm for someone who'd been forced to assfist obey a stranger's every holsters command ass--but as with Rhonda, she seemed fully awake and rational. He suspected, though, that inside, she was probably furious ass and terrified, as pictures Rhonda had been. He'd better do something about that.
Paul was feeling much stronger ass, and fist much more confident ass. A week after returning home, he went back to work.
The Hamilton Insurance Company was a medium-sized firm housed in a three-story assfist brick building ass dating to the early 1950s pictures. Paul Bennett, at forty, was a successful salesman for the company. In appearance, he was ordinary assfist: medium height, medium build assfist (just beginning ass to go to pot), medium complexion, plain brown hair assfist beginning to pictures recede at the assfist temples. Despite his sales record, he had long since resigned himself to the likelihood that he would advance no further in the company's ranks.
His fist immediate supervisor was assfist a woman, Charlene Sands. Bennett had heard all ass the ass stories about how she ass'd slept her way to the top (or at least to middle management). He wasn't sure he believed them holsters, but it was ass certainly possible assfist. She ass had the looks for assfist it fist, tanned skin, a "killer bod" only ass somewhat concealed fist holsters by the tailored business attire she wore, glossy black hair ass, green eyes ass behind elegantly-framed glasses. She had pictures the manipulative temperament for it, too ass.
And ass she hated Paul fist's guts holsters. She seemed ass never to miss an opportunity to put ass him down, and did her best to keep him ass from getting any real credit pictures for anything. She, in fact, was the reason he ass had given up on ever being fist holsters promoted ass. He'd watched others with sales records far inferior to fist his pass him on ass the corporate ladder; some of them had been people he assfist'd trained. But there had been nothing he holsters could pictures do about it, nothing but grit his teeth and soldier on.
He didn ass't have to wait long for fist holsters his opportunity. He'd hardly assfist had a chance to assfist clock in and sit down at his desk when his phone ass rang ass. It was her.
"Paul," she said ass, "I need to speak with you for a ass few minutes, if you don't mind."
Ms. Sands ass' expression softened. She nodded. "Yes, Paul." Then, with a touch assfist of her former steel, "Don't call fist holsters me Charlene. It's Ms. Sands to pictures you, is that fist clear, Mr. Bennett?"
Eventually, they got up ass again. A disheveled Ms. Sands reassembled her clothing, as did Paul. The female ass executive's reading glasses had gotten smashed as the two of them had thrashed around together. She produced another pair assfist from assfist the holsters top left ass drawer of her desk, and fist holsters put ass them on.
"You understand, Paul," she said, struggling for cool detachment, "this doesn't change anything. Whatever just . . . happened here, I ass'm assfist still your boss. Don't fist holsters think you've gotten some kind of leverage with me."
"Of ass course not, Charlene," Paul responded. Charlene whimpered and trembled ass, and as he turned assfist to go, she almost called out for him to stay.
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