The knife sank afraction of an inch, another, into the prosthetic. Those breasts wereall but dead but I still felt the dull throb of that blade sinkin... intoartificial flesh, the pain growing the deeper it penetrated. An acridstench of rot escaped from the wound. He continued to press down. "Try,you little wimp. Fight!"I pushed against him, muscles burning, sweat erupting across my body,burning into my eyes. My breath came in burning gasps, made feminine bythe spray. I refused to die--like. Meanwhile, I called my boss to ask for a few says off but, being very busy that day, I could only manage to arrive 15 minutes late to an empty lounge so I ordered a cup of coffee before heading back home. As I was about to leave, Linda appeared and joined me to plan her visit and tell me about herself while sipping a glass of wine.In her mid fifties, Linda told me she was a lady of leisure married to a rich businessman, away most of the time. It was the first time she came back to Paris since. More

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