.. ?" The question died on his lips as she came round the side of his chair and he caught sight of her for the first time. The colour drained from his...face as he recognised his lover from thirty five years earlier.Dressed in a shapeless pair of oilskin trousers, a baggy, nondescript, somewhat grubby sailing sweater, the iron grey hair topped off with a Breton sailing hat, she leant forward, gently closed his mouth and said, "I'll get some of this gear off while you get me a drink - Tinner's. Finally, it was my turn. Walking to the section of desk she now stood behind - somehow, I doubted she'dshuffle back over to where she had been talking to me before our painful interruption for my benefit,particularly after my earlier mistake earned her another punishment - I completed the script Mistresshad given me: "Slave js207, reporting as ordered for Mistress K."For some reason, both the receptionist - identified by her collar inscription as 'bex', no capitals, Inow saw - and the remaining. More

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