Chapter 972 The Dildo:>Ep 9

• I had her in a rhythm now, as we stood apparently idly in the middle of the show floor: One second on full, one second at half intensity, one second on full, and finally one second at idle. Then repeat. And the occasional potato chip.
• The rhythm was accomplishing what I wanted, as her vision, while still fixed on me, was obviously losing focus. She trembled here and there, usually when I had my little co-conspirator humming at full power, but she was keeping it together. She summoned a look of defiance that ebbed away as quickly as she formed it.
• And then into the booth walked a tall guy in charcoal grey slacks and a fitted dress shirt, jet black hair that was silver at the temples, and dark green eyes. Oh, and his tie was Lynda's favorite purple.