‘I just came,’ she said. ‘Thank you, Mr. Magic Fingers.’ She put her head on my shoulder, sighed, and the rest of the movie passed in a daze. ...hen it ended we stood up, swaddled, and passed from the theater’s warmth to a frigid riot of wind-driven. ‘Coffee?’ I asked, a little half-heartedly. ‘At home,’ she said, pulling me down Third Avenue toward her apartment on E. 53rd Street. ‘God damn it,’ she muttered when she dropped her keys into the slush at the front entrance to the six-story. Down in his basement is where he ties me up. He takes his time with it and uses lots and lots of rope. I know he enjoys it, though he pretends not to, and it makes me feel super special. Like I’m his little bird, or his angel, that he doesn’t want to let go of.He prepares a serum and sticks a needle in my arm that I know will make me sleepy. Then he puts on nice music for me to listen to that helps me calm down. Ballet or opera music. Then he checks all of my knots to make sure all my. More

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