I can only hug her back and try to keep my blood off her."I'm sorry Sam, I should've told you, but we've only been seeing each other for a week now." She's trying to explain herself to me. But she doesn't have to. I sit on her sofa and eat a Fat Cake, only because it gives me something to do with my hands and mouth.I shrug, "It's fine. No, it's great. We haven't had much time to hang this week anyways. And you're telling me now."And she smiles and touches my knee, so I know everything's okay. But then she talks about him – no, gushes – about him and I start to feel sick because I can hear how far she's gone with him in her voice. And maybe I'm exaggerating about that, but I can see them together in my head and it's making me angry again. But I plaster a smile on my face and make all the right sounds.Because she's Carly, and she deserves happiness. And I'm Sam Puckett, and I don't deserve her. And I push everything into a hard little ball that sits in my gut like a ball bearing and I. That exquisite ecstasy boosted no end by the thought of the hanging he’d witness, the sheer sadistic pleasure he’d see on the women’s faces at that deed ... and that he might one day witness it from the noose itself. The last thought had him writhe in complete ecstasy under the cane, the spiteful maid now more than ready to have her cunt licked too, as her wielding of the cane was influenced by what she’d see at noon, also.Madam Beryl Frobisher shivered with the intensity of her excitement, at seeing the fear and anticipation in Crawford’s eyes for the first time on this lustrous morning, the morning of his execution ... the last morning he’d know. Ekua had already long seen to her ablutions, and stood in regal pose with her whip, the magnificence of her athletic feminine shape, shown in her unashamed nakedness; a constant and erotic reminder to Crawford as to the power of womanhood, and his defeat to it. Her black nipples poked hard and high from her silky brown breasts, she having.
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