Fighting off the fog that seemed to be seeping into his brain, Rotkoff thought hard, his analytical mind sifting the possibilities, but coming up blan.... …whispering. ‘He’s conscious I tell you.’ A low, deep voice with a South London accent. ‘No, he can’t be after the dose I gave him.’ A thin, nasal tenor – a professional voice – a Doctor? Maybe he was in hospital. But how could he be? ‘Keep your voices down. We mustn’t disturb his wife and kids. You know the boss said no killings. Half the. It is combined with what I have described as a bit of electricity going from my boypussy lips up to my brain. Remember that without a good functioning of the brain, sex is just blah, blah. So, I opened the letter and began reading. Dear Bitch, (I knew what came after that opening) what are you doing to get ready for tonight?? Are you planning to masturbate there at the office to bring me the jism of your cock?? You know I want it as fresh as possible. So you better masturbate as you are leaving. More

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