A Loss of Sexual Control

Pam eyed me calmly over the rim of her mug of herbal tea. "I don't think that's accurate at all," she said placidly. "You're the one who turned me into a whore. Derrick has just been showing me more ways to-" she closed her eyes for a moment and gave a little shiver that either was or was not genuine, "-enjoy myself.""And now he's selling you?""I don't believe that to be the case," she said, with a desultory shrug, "but I'm not much concerned either way. I am enjoying myself!""He's introducing you to friends-""Has been for a couple of weeks now, since I had my first triple-penetration, which-" her shiver was markedly more intense, and clearly, deeply, genuine, "-well . . . I only wish you could have been there. Maybe next time!" I shivered: the image of her, sandwiched between men-like the hub of a piece of playground equipment, like a contortionist troupe in a circus act-both terrifying and terrifyingly erotic. "What will people-" I started to ask."-think?" she cut in. "What will people think?" I nodded quickly. She put down her mug. "Think about me?" she asked evenly. "Or think about you?"