 He noticed he was lesbian attached to an IV drip and several monitors. The drip lesbiananal, he realized foggily, must account for why lesbiananal he felt so detached, and why his throat only burned a little instead of online hurting like anal hell. He looked up at lesbian the tiled ceiling; it seemed to be shifting lesbiananal colors in a online herringbone pattern, like a television picture with bad reception. The colors lesbian were fascinating. The colors were lesbiananal. The colors. . . .
 "Shh," the nurse sistas responded. "It's all right, Mr. Bennett. Don't try to lesbian talk just yet online; I lesbian'm only just lesbian now taking out lesbian your lesbian tracheal tube. You're doing lesbian fine."
 He must have still been a little woozy, because, eyes sistas fixing on her impressive chest, he blurted, "Hey babe, nice rack. How's about peeling off that starched shirt and giving me a good look?" The moment the words were out of lesbian his mouth, he lesbian cringed. Oh my God, he thought, did I say that out loud?
 What happened next was totally unexpected. The gorgeous nurse stiffened, then, eyes widening, casually unbuttoned her blouse, and tossed lesbian it aside. Then she leaned forward lesbian over him lesbian and said, "Is this good sistas enough, Mr. Bennett?"
 "Yes, Mr. Bennett," she lesbian replied calmly online, her lesbian angry expression and tone instantly gone. "Everything I can."
 "--th-thithiiiiieeeeeeeee---." Rhonda stiffened, her back arching, eyes crossing; she writhed, then fell lesbian to her knees beside Paul's bed.
 "Good girl, Rhonda." She didn't make a sound, merely lay there, naked body lesbiananal bucking lesbian in ecstasy until the storm finally passed. At last her lesbian sistas shudders lesbian ceased and lesbian her breathing returned sistas to something lesbian like lesbian normal rhythm. Slowly lesbian, dazedly, she lesbiananal put her clothes back on and stood up. She didn't try to run for it; she knew, now, that he could have her lesbian sistas wriggling mindlessly on the floor, instantly, with just three little words online.
 "What's your name?" he asked her.
 "Shh," Paul said. "Not another word." Instantly lesbian sistas, Jasmine fell silent, looking scared.
 Paul felt sorry for her. "Forget your worries," he suggested. "Imagine lesbiananal you're a dancer. Keep lesbiananal your arms raised, and stand on tiptoe--that lesbian's right lesbian--and turn, slowly, slowly. Imagine lesbian you're on stage, under lesbian a lesbiananal spotlight lesbian, and a big audience is watching you, seeing how lesbian graceful you are lesbian. Applauding. Keep turning, slowly, slowly, for the audience."
 After a online couple of minutes, Paul was satisfied. Jasmine was clearly lesbian under his control, just as Rhonda had been earlier.
 "Jasmine lesbian, I know lesbian you're probably upset lesbian with me, even though lesbiananal you don't lesbiananal show it," he addressed her. "Forget about it. Completely. Nothing unusual happened here, except that you had a little sistas daydream about lesbian being a dancer lesbian sistas. Nod your lesbian head if your mind accepts this as true."
 "Very good, Jasmine. Now lesbiananal finish lesbian up your nurse's duties here and go on with your rounds."
 "Yes, Mr. Bennett," the nurse responded lesbian. She lesbiananal checked the lesbian room carefully, fluffed lesbian his lesbian pillows, and left sistas, casting lesbian a lesbian last sistas smile back at him. If she still had sistas any memory of what he'd done, she lesbian showed no sign of lesbian it lesbian.
 Until sistas now lesbian sistas.
 "Paul," she said, "I lesbiananal need to speak with you for lesbian a few minutes, if you don't mind."
 Paul's lesbian heart sank. Could he really have--? Yes, he decided. He had already been sick lesbian when he'd landed the Cortez account lesbian. He remembered the day he and Mrs. Cortez had signed the papers; his throat had hurt so much, all he anal'd lesbian wanted was to get out of there. Yes, he could have made a mistake.
 "Well, Paul?" Ms. Sands asked. "What do you think I should do?"
 "Perfectly . . . Charlene." Paul had the upper hand now, and knew it. "You don lesbian't lesbian mind my calling you by anal your first name lesbiananal, Charlene. In fact, it turns you on. All lesbian the way lesbian on."
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