“Don’t speak!” she barked at him. She walked around
him several times checking each detail carefully. “This
one is beautiful,” she concluded, “I shall have him.”
“But Muriel,” whined one of her gang of thugs, “we
have not fed in three days and there are but two.”
“There’s the driver,” she answered coldly.
“But he’s dead. The blood will have already begun to
spoil.”
“Then you had best hurry.” Two of the men trotted off
into the darkness to retrieve the body.
Muriel stood gloating before her prize. Seizing his arm
roughly she pulled him across the road and, pushing
him before her, propelled him towards a small stand of
trees along the side of the road. Once in the shadows
beneath the trees, she tore away the buttons of his shirt,
throwing it back off his shoulders, baring him to the
waist.
“It would be foolish to hold back from me that which I
want.” she spoke plainly.
“As you wish m’lady.” he acquiesced quietly.
She wrapped her arms around him then, crushing her
open mouth down upon his. As she kissed him she
fumbled with the buttons and buckles on the front of
his trousers. She smiled at his passion beginning to stir
beneath her practiced hand. Leaving his hands tied, his
shirt hanging limply from his wrists, a white flag of
54