I finally said, "I like you, the way you look, the way you feel, stay that way for a while, please." She cried for a long time. I gathered her up and ...eld her until she stopped. And she stayed her. "Thank you, Paul. I love you." And I was totally "captured", taken prisoner and jammed into a wonderful prison I had no thoughts of ever escaping. She was Mona for me that night, as she was at sixteen. I've been in love with her since I was seventeen. Every woman I've ever been attracted to looked. I was only shirtless so was not bothered, but noticed the young ladies eyes linger on my muscled torso. I smiled and held out my arm for the blood pressure cuff and got chatting with her. Her name was Daisy, and she was into computer games and good music. She lingered a little longer than necessary, excitedly chatting about her new game and I suggested that she try out another one I had played myself. Now, Daisy was not the nerdy geek girl gamer your going to find if you google. She was. ‘Call it stage fright. It doesn’t matter. Either way, go take a walk or something.’ ‘Promise you won’t try to get out of there on your own?’ ‘I promise! Now git!’ I heard him walking away, but turned on the sink tap just in case. That was all the encouragement my bladder needed, and I was soon feeling much better. I washed up, and called Steven back. With scarcely any effort, he relocated me to the couch and went to use the facilities himself. The bag of peas was gone, in the garbage, I hoped –. “Yeah, that’s Hollywood. Gianni Falcone isn’t Marsellus Wallace. He wouldn’t forgive for nothing, trust me. Marsellus was far nicer about things than Gianni would be. He wouldn’t send a washed-up has been like Vincent and a disgruntled hitman like Jules to do his dirty work for him, either. He’d execute the son of a bitch in person! That’s just how Gianni is. The personal touch. Plus he’s a control freak. He wouldn’t be satisfied until he saw the bullet-riddled corpse himself, in person and.
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