I let one go.

Actually, that’s not true. He’s still tied up in my bed, asleep.

But he’s alive.

He’s not like the others at all.

He says he loves me (!?). That should make me not trust him, but it doesn’t.

Nobody’s ever said that to me before. I can’t help it. I believe him. He makes me feel strange, but good.

And very, very aroused.

Nothing good can come of this…