Mr. Florentino chose that color because it reminded him of his hotel room where he stayed in Venice, but his shade of green looked more like pea soup. Nothing reflected. He closed his eyes and waited. It felt like hours before he had the courage to turn his head to look, when it was only a few minutes after the men had fled the bank. He never heard him leave. He crawled over to Mrs. Enunzio and felt her for a pulse. There was none. He crossed himself, ‘In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost,’ and was about to pray for her when he saw her open safety deposit box on the counter above her head. Curiosity made him stand and larceny made him walk to it. With the knowledge that there were no security cameras in the vault, he reached inside and felt around with his fingers while keeping watch that no one walked by the vault. He listened and watched for anyone walking towards the vault. His heart raced. Perspiration ran down his face and disappeared under his collar. His. When men did it to me the first few times I didn’t think I could stand it. But then I began to love the pain because of what comes next.” “Yes. I enjoy the way you screamed, and then begged me to go on.” “Anyway, recently I’ve found I love those first few strokes more and more. Not just because of the way they bring me to the threshold of pain and pleasure. But for their own sake. For the pure pain they give. It’s beautiful.” I pulled another knot tight and hard. Another lash finished: two more to do. Then I could ask Bob to try out the improved whip on me. It was a good moment to suggest something I had been thinking about for some time. “I’d like to ask you … it would be nice if you would stop for a bit after those few opening strokes. You know, pull me back. Don’t let me pass the threshold. Make me experience the pain again. And again … and again … and then push me over into pleasure when you want to. Make it your gift to me. Make me wait for it.” My heart was beating fast.
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