She knew I’d reached my limit. She didn’t carry out the rest of the punishment they’d threatened for all my earlier smarty-pants remarks. She unlatched my wrist cuffs in an instant and took me in her arms. There’s nothing like being taken care of after you’ve been hurt like that. I wanted to cling to her for ages.

“Your lover is waiting for you,” she said, untangling herself from my sweaty body and reaching down to unchain my legs. I wobbled out of bed and picked up my boots. Everything was so heavy.

“Coral, you’re going to suffer terribly for what you did to me today.” I knew that would make her happy.

I stood by the front window and gathered my things. Glancing down below, I saw that our car was still there, with Honey Lee inside. She was staring right up at our floor, with her mirrored sunglasses on. What had she been dreaming about, watching the window this whole time!

I don’t think Honey has ever seen me so serene as when I got in the front seat. “You look like a saint,” she said when I sat down.

“Yeah, well, you know how religious experiences are,” I whispered. I wasn’t surprised when she pulled a long white scarf out of the glove compartment and told me to turn my head. She wrapped it around my eyes several times. I didn’t even try to follow the car’s direction. I felt nothing urgent, except the pulse of the stripes on my behind.

When we came to a stopping place, she led me down a narrow sidewalk and into a low-ceilinged room. We were back home. I could hear voices exclaim their admiration as I entered the room. Many hands, too many to count, reached out for my clothes and undressed me. They lifted me onto a soft bed, but I still couldn’t tell how many or who they were. I was being kissed all over. Oil was being dribbled on my chest. I was massaged by countless fingers. Someone lifted my head and slipped in a cold piece of peach. I smelled the champagne just as the glass was pressed to my lips. A little of that spilled down my neck and then I felt a cool mouthful of the same liquid circle my nipple. I tried to count how many were there, and identify their voices, but it was impossible. They kept changing positions, and I couldn’t concentrate on more than three sensations at a time. I was so wet and warm and stinging that I gave up trying to think at all.

But someone else started kissing me, deeply: Honey Lee. The other hands and tongues began to fade, and it wasn’t just my imagination. The hundreds of fingertips were leaving me. Honey Lee never left my mouth, but the rest of my body became still.