“Just demonstrating, Sir. “Pantyhose.” “Excuse me, Sir?” “It’s not often I see girls with pantyhose. All you Cheerleaders – it’s nor...ally bare legs and socks.” Mr LeMay was definitely thawing. I sensed I was close to a breakthrough. “Do you like pantyhose, Sir?” “Miss Marsh, we shouldn’t be… why, yes.” “That’s okay, some men do.” I took the liberty of moving closer to his side of the desk. “Would you like to feel them? Stroke my pantyhose, I mean…” Suddenly I saw a different LeMay looking at. Kneeling down, he inspected her wounds, noting the dirty, black dagger stabbed through her left arm. Touching the edge of the blade, he ran his finger over his tongue. Don gagged at the sight of his Master licking the droplet of blood off his finger, and was relieved to see him immediately spit it back out. ‘Poisoned. Help me get her on horseback. Lord Imlan will want to see she survives long enough to hear his gratitude,’ he said, and together, he and Don picked her up. ‘She’s bleeding. More

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