 Paul allowed himself to be soothed. He didn't really have much choice, after all; either he'd be okay or he wouldn't analhell gallery, but he was in no position to leap up and make a break for it. After a while, he went to sleep again.
 "Rhonda, stand up," he said. She obeyed, repeating, "Yes, Mr. Bennett." He could see analhell her relax once she was no longer leaning over so awkwardly. "Rhonda, get dressed," he continued analhell. She picked up analhell her bra and blouse gallery and put them on calmly. "Rhonda analhell," he asked curiously, "how do you feel about analhell gallery what analhell just happened?"
 He regarded her for pictures a moment. "One thing," he said. "'Mr. Bennett analhell' is analhell too formal, if gallery we analhell're going to be analhell," he smirked, "working closely together. From now on, you'll only analhell call me that analhell if other people analhell are around. When we're alone, it analhell's 'master.' Do you understand?"
 "Good girl, Rhonda." Paul thought for analhell a moment. "You know analhell, it's hardly fair for me analhell to get all the pleasure out of analhell this arrangement. So here's what we're analhell going to try, Rhonda. Whenever you hear my voice analhell say, 'Good girl, Rhonda,' you analhell gallery'll feel an analhell overpowering sexual analhell pleasure, strong enough to make you come no matter what. And each time you analhell feel the pleasure, it analhell'll gallery be stronger than it was analhell the time before, until you reach whatever your personal limit is. Do you understand me, Rhonda?"
 "Good girl pictures, Rhonda." The nurse analhell toppled analhell over, glassy-eyed, scrambling to tear off her analhell clothing as her body spasmed uncontrollably.
 "Yes . . . master . . . !" Rhonda replied pictures, still a bit breathless.
 As it analhell turned out, the next analhell gallery voice he heard was his doctor's.
 "How are we doing, Mr. Bennett?" the middle-aged man analhell in the clean analhell white coat asked. "Your chart indicates you're making a pretty good analhell gallery recovery analhell, but the charts don't show analhell everything."
 "Perfectly normal analhell," Dr analhell. Steiner said analhell. "Good news. We're still going analhell gallery over analhell the tests, but early indications are analhell that we analhell gallery got the whole tumor. If you're lucky, you won't need gallery more than a mild course of chemotherapy."
 "Dr analhell. Steiner," he analhell said forcefully, "give me your watch. You want me analhell to have it."
 "Hello, Mr. Bennett," the analhell gallery girl said. She analhell was a analhell petite, slender black girl, younger than Rhonda. She had a special voice of her own analhell gallery, low and husky.
 "Very nice." Paul thought analhell for a moment: what would be a good test?
 He smiled analhell to himself analhell. Some analhell of gallery those chances he meant to take. The smile faded; only some of them analhell. Some lines were not to be crossed. The smile returned. As long as he knew what those lines were, what analhell was the analhell harm analhell in analhell gallery playing analhell around? His smile broadened into analhell a grin analhell. Soon enough, he was analhell ready to go home. Somewhat to the surprise of his doctor analhell, he didn analhell't go home alone. Nurses Rhonda Marks pictures and Jasmine Thibodeaux went with analhell him, having persuaded Administration to allow them to serve as health attendants analhell gallery for him analhell during his convalescence analhell. Their arguments to the analhell male administrators had been quite strong, and very intimate. The chief nurse, a forbidding figure in analhell her fifties, had tried to stand in the way until, at Paul's suggestion analhell, the nurses analhell gallery had brought him to see her analhell. Five analhell minutes later, she'd agreed to the arrangement, "for analhell as long as you wish analhell, Mr. Bennett, sir analhell."
 Paul was feeling much stronger, and much more confident. A week after returning home, he went back to work analhell.
 And she analhell hated Paul's guts. She seemed never to miss analhell an opportunity to put analhell him down, and did her best to keep him from getting any real credit for anything. She, in fact, was the reason he had given up on ever being promoted. He'd watched others analhell gallery with sales analhell records far analhell inferior to his pass him analhell on the corporate ladder; some of them had been people analhell he'd trained. But there had been analhell nothing he could analhell do about it, nothing but grit his teeth and soldier on.
 He didn analhell't have to analhell wait long for his opportunity. He pictures'd hardly had a analhell chance to clock in and sit down analhell at analhell his desk when his phone rang. It was her.
 "It's all right, Charlene," he assured her. "Let it happen. Lose analhell control. Nothing analhell matters but sex, right here, right now, with me, Charlene analhell."
 "RRRRRARRRRRR." Charlene launched herself across her desk at him, knocking him out of his chair. The two analhell of analhell them went down in a heap. Then analhell, for a analhell time analhell, both of analhell gallery them forgot about everything but each analhell other analhell.
 Eventually, they got up again. A disheveled analhell gallery Ms. Sands reassembled her analhell clothing, as did Paul pictures. The female executive's reading glasses had gotten smashed as the two of them had thrashed around together. She produced another pair from analhell the top left drawer of her desk, and put them on.
 "Of course not analhell, Charlene," Paul responded. Charlene whimpered and trembled, and as he turned to go, she almost analhell called out for him to stay.
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