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She was running a fever. “Patricia,” I whispered. “How do you feel honey?” “Terrible,” she snorted. She grabbed the sheet and covered her head. “Baby, you have a fever.” I got up from the bed and poured her another shot of Nyquil. Again, she swallowed it. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Don’t worry babe. Tomorrow you will feel better,” I responded. “I’m going out for a walk ok?” “Be careful,” Patricia said, as I quietly exited the room, carefully assuring that the door would not slam. * I walked through the empty lobby and saw Arlene behind the counter. She was smartly dressed in a long sleeved white blouse, a crisp black vest and perfectly pressed black slacks. Her braided hair reached below her shoulders; the ends whimsically tied to white beads. Her rimless glasses gave her a professorial look, her unblemished face smooth with a rich brown tone. She smiled as she saw me approach. “Hey there mister…You are certainly up late tonight,” she mused. “Yep, my girlfriend is sick in bed. On theside of obliviousness: I was not a rapist, something which her scornedlove blinded her to - but this is a point I've made. But she was rightto explain to me the strategy of her game. That I could appreciate. Iunderstood the druggings, the secrecy, the quiet, the midnight visitsfrom Antonio. I was near a position of power from which she had to keepme. I was to find that my panic and fear and anger at my treatment wereto give way to anger and loathing at being beaten. They had so faroutplayed me in our competition. Well, they had a head start, and hadso far kept me from having a chance. But eventually I would havecontrol again, and then they would see that I could bend the rules,too.My reverie was interrupted by Lillianna coming back in."Now, we have surgery to discuss." My thoughts raced back to my cock -gone! This was a continual shock to me, a recurring sense of despair.It was impossible not to be surprised by the thought that it was gone,no matter how many times it.
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