And yet sometimes, even when overwhelmed by memories that made her want to cry with shame and anger, there would arise unbidden the memory of that kiss—a wonderful, romantic kiss, despite the circumstances. He had an average physique, not tall or short, neither muscular nor flabby, but he had broad shoulders that made him look a little more imposing. Sex She breathed. In fact, his movements, as he made his way to the shelves, seemed a little hesitant, as if he weren’t quite comfortable in his body. Giving him her answer. She had no idea how she felt about that. In some ways the memory—that kiss, that look—haunted her more consistently than any of the others, so much so that even though she was frantically trying to avoid him, she also now found herself paying attention to how she looked, although she wouldn’t admit to herself that she was doing so, resolutely thinking about something else as she picked out her clothes in the morning. She glanced quickly around, then, steeling herself, leaned over and looked under the table, bracing herself for the sight of his face, the knowing look in his blue, blue eyes. In the same writing, it continued: “…good slaves are rewarded.” What in the world… She didn’t dare move or make the slightest sound, even, especially, when she felt
