But he was badly hurt.”“How the hell did that happen?”“Bark. Bark and wood splinters in his face and neck.”Bertrand Adams almost slammed his phone down in frustration. Instead he gritted his teeth, took a steadying breath, stared up at his Denver office ceiling in supplication, and in his most unctuous, witness-questioning manner, he began again.“Stop, please. This is getting us nowhere. Simons, start from the beginning and don’t stop until you’ve told me the whole story. I’ll try not to interrupt you. Alright?”“Sure, boss. Anyway, Martin, that’s the special investigator you guys sent here, he was scoping out that dirty old Arky, the goat man, and the guy spotted him and tried to run him down, but he got away. So the next time, it was okay, he got a good chance to inventory things and watch the old guy before he got spotted, but then the third time he got shot at.”“GAWDAMMIT!” Adams screamed into the phone. “Can’t you even speak coherently?” he raged. “Just STOP! Stop right. Amanda read to him. She had written it all. The words, the touches, the desires to be seen, the body contact of hip, leg, arm, hands, trying to make everything seem totally innocent yet the undercurrent was there, the desire to be appreciated, the desire to please, the desire to obey. She hoped it was hidden well enough.The soft timbre of her voice echoed off the bookshelves that were stacked with others' dreams and inner needs. He smiled at her, listening to every word. "Show it to me."Amanda handed him the sheet printed out that very morning. She bit her lower lip.Nick placed his hand on his knee. "Sit."Amanda sat, loving how he gave orders. No please, just orders. She loved it; her knees almost touching him. With one of his hands on her lower back, the other holding the paper he began to read. Announcing each word and thought to the two of them. Revelling in her descriptions, hearing her voice and finding it a match for his own. At the end he smiled and put the paper down. "A.
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