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" She pulled out her fingers, and then she pushed them inagain, harder this time. "I was wearing the same black dress thenthat I'm wearing tonight. He started to softly caress me." Out, andthen in went her fingers once more, as if to punctuate andaccentuate what she was saying. "Suddenly, he turned me around andpushed me down over the hood of my car!" She pushed the two fingersin even harder. "I tried to scream, but I couldn't get out asound." She added a third finger as she rammed my ass which wasbecoming raw. "He lifted my dress over my head and yanked down mypanties." Another thrust of her fingers inside of me made me jump."He pressed his body against me and I felt him unzipping hispants." She rotated her fingers as she shoved them inside. "Hepulled out his cock, spit on his hand, and wet his cock. He startedto push it between my legs." Her thrusting fingers wereunstoppable. "I couldn't believe that it was happening to me. I was goingto be ****d and I was helpless." Another jab. "He made a call and gestured to the paper."Please write now."I thought for a moment and decided to tell the truth, but maybe notthe whole truth. They didn't need to know everything about what hadhappened that night. I wrote that I had gone to see Aki to find out ifhe knew where Jandaeng was. Aki had made me go with him to the house.We had talked and drank whisky until he told me he wanted me to seesomething. He took me to the garage where I saw Jandaeng. Aki told methey had captured Jandaeng sneaking around the house. One of Aki's menwas waving a gun around and I thought he dropped the gun and Jandaengwas shot just before the explosion occurred. Pretty much the truth butwith a little editing of my part in the events.Someone brought in a plastic cup with some foul coffee which tasted asif it had been brewing for months. The driver took my finishedstatement, and I dozed in the chair until Thaksin walked through thedoor."How are you feeling now?"I rubbed my face with my hands. "I've felt.
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She knew that. He was too much a gentleman to do such a thing. ‘Can you forgive me?’ she asked, breathless. ‘There is nothing to forgive. I don’t think you can imagine how it felt, of course, to stand there and se you in my chair, covered in my jacket. You hands, so sensuous… your lips parted and moist, like you were waiting. Your hips wriggling, rubbing you against the chair.’ His words travelled through her like shivers. He had not only seen her, he had studied her carefully in detail… remembered. That photographic memory which had so many times given him the victory when it came to business deals. ‘When I was sitting in the chair during the meeting I could smell your scent. Vanilla, faint but definitely there. The chair, still warm from your body. I had a hard time concentrating.’ His confession made her tremble. She raised her hands and took his where they gentle caressed her tight shoulders. ‘Why?’ he asked. ‘I don’t know’, she moaned. ‘It came over me and it is so unlike me as.

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