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“I do have something else I’d like to show you, though, that I think you may like. Vanessa, this way please,” and she led me back into the changing room.She followed me in with several boxes. “Vanessa, would you please undress completely?” she asked politely but firmly. She didn’t offer to leave the room.I was a little hesitant – the marks on my back from the whipping Jack had given me last night were all too plain – but I knew instinctively that I really had no choice but to comply. I slipped out of the new pants, removed my blouse, and proceeded to remove the stockings. Marguerite unhooked the bustier from behind and I laid it on one of the chairs. I stood, barefooted, on the carpeted floor. I shivered a little, from the cold, or perhaps simply from being naked in front of her, or perhaps...fear? Anticipation?Marguerite examined me closely, up and down, in the front. I had the distinct sense of being inspected, like I was a soldier going on parade or something. She was so tall in. David was still a question in my mind. Did his dick do the talking or was he really ready to have sex with a good number of people. Jill had called me earlier and told me she got off of her shift at seven thirty and would be arriving in her scrubs and her “go bag”. Basicly a gym bag with a change of cloths and her toiletries. I did not expect her till about eight fifteen, if she got off in time. As an ER trauma nurse that was no guarantee. She was a question also. Jill told me that her sex life was her decompression. She saw people die almost every day. I guess it empowered her to know that she was really, truly alive. The old people, the drunks, the thugs and the innocent passed away with them holding her hand. She was the last thing scores of people saw. I guess that what those old Greek guys said is true. Character comes from suffering. Carol and I were novices compared to her. The key was motivation. She needed sex. It was her salvation, her therapy, her distraction from some.
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