I could do it. She would die, of course, without me to feed her - thenourishment of food, yes, but also hope. Every time I descend the steps,she think..., maybe I will let her go now. Maybe this is the time I fumblemy key, or she can pickpocket my phone. It's not, though. I'm too carefulfor that. I will put the plate inside the arc of her chain where she canreach it, and leave, the light from the top of the stairs narrowing untilit disappears.I hope, really, more than anything, I can let her out. ”Somewhat reluctantly, he got up and we walked out to his truck.Once inside his house, I told him to get a blanket and the cooking oil from the kitchen.I arranged the blanket on his bed and put the bottle of oil on the nightstand. “Get your clothes off boss!”He undressed and so did I.He got on the bed and he laid down on his stomach. I grabbed the cooking oil and poured generous amounts on my hands. I knelt beside him. I started on his neck and shoulders, I rubbed and massaged for several. More

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