 Rhonda shuddered, picturing herself gayfucking trying to explain how just a few words from a patient had had her doing a strip act for him. She'd be lucky just to lose gay her job. "As for gayfucking coming back here," Paul went on gayfucking, "of course gay you will, if it's part of your normal duties. And you'll do everything you gay can to make sure it continues to be welcome part of your duties, won gay't you?"
 "Yes . . . master . . . ." Rhonda replied fucking, still a bit breathless.
 "Good," Paul responded, restraining gay the gay urge to use Rhonda's sexual trigger again. Time enough for that gay later. "Now, Rhonda, it's time for you to go about your duties. You can go."
 Now, Paul mused, I find gay out whether gay my commands hold once gay she's not near me gayfucking. If they gay don't, the next voice I hear may be coming from a gay police officer. And on gay that happy note, he went back to sleep.
 His gayfucking eyes fell on the gay expensive watch on the doctor gay's right wrist. A gold Rolex, it undoubtedly cost more than gay he gay made in three months as an insurance salesman gay. Why gay shouldn't he have one welcome?
 After a gay couple of minutes, Paul was satisfied. Jasmine was clearly under his control, just as Rhonda had been earlier .
 Jasmine nodded her head.
 Paul was feeling much stronger, and much more confident. A week after returning home, he gayfucking went back to work.
 The Hamilton Insurance Company was a medium-sized firm housed in gay a three-story brick gayfucking building dating to the early gayfucking 1950s welcome. Paul Bennett, at forty, was a successful salesman for the company. In appearance, he was ordinary: medium height, medium build (just beginning gay to go to pot), medium complexion, plain brown hair gay beginning to recede at gay the temples. Despite his gayfucking sales record, he had long since resigned himself to the likelihood that he gayfucking would advance no further in the company's ranks.
 Paul's heart sank. Could he gayfucking really have gay--? Yes, he decided gayfucking. He had already been gay sick when he'd landed the Cortez account. He remembered the day he and Mrs. Cortez had signed the papers; his throat had hurt so much, all he'd wanted was to get out of there. Yes, he gayfucking could have made a mistake.
 "It gayfucking's welcome all right, Charlene," he assured her. "Let it happen. Lose control. Nothing matters but sex, right here, right now, with me, Charlene."
 And this was just the beginning.
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