It only inflamed him. He was overwhelmed. A not unpleasant feeling. He gripped the bar where his arms lay. He had enough money to comfortably pay for a new, strange experience. “OK, guys. Good. Then he went to the back of the frame, pulled Faranger apart and began to plunge into him. The right person will ask for it.” Faranger grasped what looked like a whip for a horse. “Now, just a word about the injuries our whips inflict.” He picked up a whip with dozens of leather thongs, each tipped with a very small stainless steel ball. But that didn’t allay the weakness he was feeling. A case could be made that he’d already, in fifteen minutes, gotten his $3000 worth of value. Pederson wasn’t overtly frightened, but he looked at Faranger with concern. It was hinged along one side and lined with small knobs. More engorgement. If you like that sort of thing we could make it a kind of ritual to try a different ethnic restaurant every week or so until we’ve exhausted what Boston has to offer.
