.". After a few moments of jokey banter she resumed his treatment. She passed the hose between her legs, intending to grip some of its length between...her thighs to gain additional control. Pointing the hose at his ankle, she flicked the start switch. Life immediately returned to the previously limp hose; its length throbbing in sympathy with the pumps reciprocating action. The relief in Tom's ankle was instant. The strong massaging of the hose moved his otherwise languid blood around his. The weight bar that Becky Finklestein used to effortlessly curl three hundred pounds sat gleaming in the light, and pressed into the steel as if by a die were the impressions of eight tiny fingers and two tiny thumbs. I felt light-headed. How strong was she actually? What was her limit? Did she have a limit? And who would control her now that her mother was gone?A week later it was Saturday night again, and I was in my garage with Stewart Reed and Ken Blankenship, two guys from work. We had. More

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