“Where are you?” echoed down to me.“Be right up.”She was standing at the window looking out. Back in her faded slim jeans, a v-neck light blue...sweater with nothing underneath, sleeves pulled up, her hair tied back into a bushy tail, and barefoot, she again reminded me of the painting in the Louvre. Turning, she smiled at me.“Feeling better?” I asked.She nodded.I braced myself. Now came the hardest thing I had ever done, the part I’d been dreading. I had no choice. Callie’s safety came above. The commentsfrom the women followed quickly over one another, and Sandra could not yetdistinguish one speaker from another. 'If they didn't suffer there'd be no spice.' 'Yeah, if we didn't go beyond their comfort zones, sometimes way beyond...' 'Then there wouldn't any thrill for them either.' 'You see Sandra, they always congratulate us afterwards for staying in control.' 'They have to suffer, whether its just discomfort - 'Prolonged discomfort -' 'Or even just bored immobility while we're. More

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