She had wanted to be live-roastedon a spit. She was way past the age limit for spit roasting but knew that hecould afford to have it done privately to...bypass the Company's quality assurancerules. That was certainly true, but he could not bear to think of her beingcooked live over a roasting pit. She could not convince him that O-drugs madethe orgasms grow in direct proportion to the intensity of pain, and that theimmensity of the pleasure would overwhelm the underlying agony of her. What she was hearing was not the sound of passionate lovemaking.What she was hearing was the sound of sadness.Her mother was crying."Mom?" She tapped lightly on the door.The weeping continued. A thought whisked over the periphery of her awareness: perhaps her mother had seen Derek and perhaps he'd told her of the afternoon fuck session they'd enjoyed.But surely her mother wouldn't be broken up over that. After all, they'd both shared a single man simultaneously. Neither had been particularly. More

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