Pia knew she’d judged him correctly. He was most likely a physical coward who probably enjoyed inflicting pain. Berman reminded her of her despised uncle.

“Do you enjoy thinking about women being hurt?’

“No, Pia, believe me. Maybe I like to play a game or two, but it’s always consensual and in good fun. Come on, Pia, you’re torturing me.”

“I know.”

“Is it the money? I can offer you more money.”

“Okay, offer me more money.”

“I’ll double the money.”

“So write it down.”

Berman scurried back to the desk and scratched on the contract with a pen. To Pia, he was weak, desperate, and pathetic. If he couldn’t control an issue, he wanted to buy his way to a solution. Pia’s confidence grew with her realization that she’d seized control of the situation.

“Let me see the number.”

Berman handed her the contract.

“That’s more like it. Now come here.”

He walked toward her, and she pushed him back down into the club chair.

“Where do you keep your toys?”

“My toys?”

“You know what I mean. A man like you in this big house.”

“In the bedroom. In the cupboard on the right next to the bed.”

“Stay here.”

Pia killed the lights in the living room and went up to Berman’s bedroom. She found the cupboard and, indeed, as she suspected, it was full of sex toys, masks, and a coil of nylon rope and a lot of things she didn’t recognize. She worked quickly before she lost her nerve. She found a blindfold and some handcuffs and took the rope, not exactly sure what she was going to do. Then she struggled out of her jeans and shirt, leaving on her panties and bra. She gathered up the sex paraphernalia along with her clothes and returned downstairs.

Berman’s eyes opened wide when he saw her near nakedness and the booty from the cupboard in her free arm. “Don’t you move!” Pia ordered as she dumped everything onto the couch except the rope.

“I haven’t. What are you going to do to me?” Berman was good at role playing. He was transfixed by her activity and body, watching her every move.