To dress or undress me became a crucial part of our lovemaking. I loved the building anticipation, the slow ceremony of removal, the gradual baring of flesh to the caress of fingers, or lips, or tools of discipline, because after my breakthrough, our lovemaking took on a much broader palette. There were still the times when only the hardest core would do. When the black dog of depression dragged me down, as it still did occasionally, then Margaret relished stringing me up in the punishment shed and taking me to the limit of my endurance, and sometimes a little further, until I found redemption on the outer edge. On other days, we would giggle, kiss and embrace, feed each other titbits, and feel each other up like a couple of naughty schoolgirls.We still met by appointment, but it was almost every week now, and I didn't always have to go to the University Arms first, though I still returned there afterwards. I had no information at all about any other relationships she might be running. Receiving no response, the uncle turned to Benjamin. "Now look what the blazes you've got yourself into, you idiot. The man could be a murderer, or worse. You won't be the first little fool to be taken in by gold and cotton sheets, that ended up dead. You're damned well staying here, d'you hear?" Benjamin stood his ground, and shook his head. "No, uncle, I am leaving now, and you cannot stop me." The uncle laughed. "Can't I?" He picked up the broken bottle, and flung it as hard as he could at Benjamin's chest. The speed at which Camorra intercepted the bottle, which had a bare 4 feet of space to cross between the two men, was, Benjamin reflected afterwards, nothing short of inhuman. Without seeing him move at all, Camorra's hand was suddenly in between the two of them, with the bottle in his grasp. Benjamin gasped, and looked at Camorra in shock. Camorra was looking at Benjamin's uncle, however, and looked absolutely murderous. "If you ever ever threaten this boy's life again, I.
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