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I could feel them already. As she was unlocking her door Hal and I rushed up her stairs and pushed her inside the apartment. She rented the ground floor of an old San Francisco Victorian. I slapped her face hard and then punched her in the stomach. As she sat on her ass in the hallway gasping for breath Hal checked the place for other occupants and I leaned down and pulled her blouse open with both hands. A more important attack than the fist to her gut. A blow to the mind. “Listen to me very carefully, Dani. We are professionals. If you scream or make any noise, we will hurt you. Bad.” She stared at me, eyes wide. Then slowly nodded. “Good. Now stand up,” I said, offering her my hand. “Now take off your clothes.” “Please.” Her voice was a whisper. That’s when I showed it to her. Show a woman a knife and it frightens her. Show her a wire cutter and it really panics her. “Hold out your hands.” She began to shake. Hard. “Okay, I think we understand each other. You know what will. He wanted her to walk about sexily in red 6"spike heels with the short skirt Santa suit and wear a large white beard,and sexily describe the gifts she brought him and why, and what she wasgoing to do with him when they were all open."I'm not going to be your Santa bimbo," she had insisted.With pressure and Martin throwing a very juvenile hissy fit for a week,his wife had finally relented and performed the "Slut Santa" part hewanted her to do, as she would call it later. She had felt so humiliatedby doing it. She was tearing up when he pulled the beard around her faceand tightened it.Martin still felt that was different. She was a woman, wearing women'ssexy lingerie for her husband. She shouldn't have felt anything but sexydressed like that for him as far as he was concerned.Martin knew by the way he had been dressed so early in the morning andthe fact that the enema bag above the tub this morning had been full ofsoapy water that he was going to receive his husband's heart felt.
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