Anytime, anywhere, it doesn’t matter, does it? What the hell am I, a blowup doll, for chrissakes? A toy — a plaything. I know what I’m good for....‘James! No! Not here!’ My voice is a hiss, venomous with my thoughts. Ineffectively I try batting your hands away, and you growl at me. Animal. I know that tone, and still, I fight, knowing I am making you angry. Good. I have my own mind, my own wants, and my own needs. I tear away from you, and turning to you I see the surprise in your face. Didn’t. He was about medium height and had broad shoulders that gave him a box-like appearance. Not handsome as such, but his face had an open honesty about it that appealed to her.She thrust out her hand, "Seeing as we're going to be neighbours, my name's Mavis."He took her cool fingers in his hand and once again a tremor ran up his arm, "Eric," he replied."Pleased to meet you, Eric," she smiled.That was the start of their morning routine. Eric gained employment at the pickle factory and every morning. More

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