She stood off to the side and watched him staring at himself in the mirror, as if he didnt recognize the face reflecting back. She permitted herself a faint grin as he glanced down at the pink bra in his hands. "Need some help with the bra?" He roused himself and looked at her, shaking his head. He seemed offended. Which gave her a rush. How perfect he was! The man brought the bra up behind his back and pulled it around to link the stays.

Okay, okay, dont have a bird. I dont understand because youre the one whos backed out, youre the one leaving--, speaking of which, what are you still doing here?" Chris studied Keisha. She gazed back, shrugged and edged around him and opened the door. He turned and faced her. Keisha pointed out the door. "Good by, sorry you couldnt walk the walk. The man I need is secure in his masculinity. Which I thought you were, but, like most guys, you were only talking the talk." "Whats your game, damnt!" "No game.

Chris lost track of time as he lay curled in the cage. He wanted to stretch, relieve the cramped pressure on his legs, but there was no room. Hed decided to challenge Keisha when she let him out. Hed simply shove her aside, grab his clothes and split. This was getting too weird. Especially the way she was ordering him about, making him dress like a girl, act like her maid. What the hell did she think he was? More to the point, Chris realized,

The girl clung stubbornly to the varnished doorpost and the knight, growing exasperated, shoved her hard. She staggered into the room, but suddenly spun about and clawed his cheek. Cursing, the Frank twisted one of her arms behind her back and half-carried her toward his bed. Anger, he knew, was the first resort of the weak; each time a slave gave vent to it, she declared him master. If the wench carried insolence too far, there was always the strap for its correction. He moved abruptly then, catching the girls beaded girdle and pulling it on sharply. Its tiny hooks burst, allowing him to strip away her diaphanous harem skirt.

The man eyed the bra and panties an extra beat before turning to the woman, smiling down at him. "Am I supposed to do something with those?" "Try them on, for starters." The man sat up. She dangled the bra and panties inches from his face. He exhaled and stood, stepping around her. He was more than half-a-foot taller, and was once more assertive, in control. Exactly how she wanted him, for the moment "Chris Holden doesnt wear a bra. Sorry." "Too bad.

. . . Suddenly the doorbell chimed and with a mutter of frustration, Rob stopped what he was doing and rolled over. "Keey-rist!" the young man panted. "Thats timing for you." Dori gasped for breath and moaned: "Get rid of them!". "Ill just be a minute, doll," Rob promised, rising to dry himself with a tissue. Then he threw on his plaid robe and hurried into the living room. In just a minute he was back, carrying a small package in a brown wrapper. "Who was it?" asked Dori. "Nobody. Just a twenty-four hour delivery service." Excited, she got up on her knees. "What did you get? Who sent it?" "Theres no return address.

Telegrams were a rarity in this part of the Arizona Territories. It had to be important. "Whats it say, Sheriff?" Dan took his legs down from his desk. He was a lanky man with arms and legs that were almost too long for him. He had long, thin face with straight, black hair and deep-set eyes that took in everything. The effect was an almost feral look that was often spoiled by a big, friendly grin. "That nosy boys should mind their own business and get back to their pas telegraph office before they get

Lee "Dandyman" Scarp studied the fat man across the table like his life depended on itand maybe it did. Somebodyd squealed; Guido Gurina, the boss of Kansas Citys rackets, had found out that some of Scarps boy were dealing in joy powderand so now here was Gurinas underboss, "Joe Jelly" Madagino, wanting to "talk." But ever since the obese mobster had opened his mouth Scarp had mostly just sat Worse, too many of the mugs dealing in hocus started using it themselves, which made for even worse problems. "Your boys whove done this," the fat man said in the patois of the Italian ghetto, "theyre dead men, right." Scarp knew that was a statement, not a question. "Right, Mr.

Without Ma Bells help, it would be a lot harder for us detectives to make ourselves look brilliant. The Carrousels number was listed, all right, but when we called we only got a recording that said the cafe opened at seven in the morning and there would be a pancake special for .. That sounded pretty good to me, but the message didnt the price of coffee. High-priced coffee is where the joints usually rip you off with their cheap-meal specials. Anyway, we didnt have two dollars between.

At our societys root there is only corruption and decrepitude. Gone is purpose from our lives; all that is left is direction -- or, rather, misdirection -- and even that is imposed from above." Geoffrey Kroski, , "Socialism for the st Century. Though intellectually prepared, I nonetheless shuddered, ruing the chain of events which had gotten me involved in this ludicrous project. A mutter to one side caused me to glance toward my equally-nervous neighbors. Most of them were locked in manacles and leg irons, as befitted convicts in transit -- mostly street-gang members convicted of serious crimes.