For several minutes Nelson stayed on his knees hugging the cool porcelain bowl. He wretched until nothing was left to come up, finally lifting himself...heavily to his feet and turning on the water in the wash basin. Taking a dirty washcloth from the overflowing hamper in the corner he wet it and wiped his face. The image that greeted his blurry eyes in the mirror actually brought a ghost of a smile to his face. Bloodshot blue eyes peered out from under his bushy eyebrows. His once thin, finely. Breaut: How’d you get here then?pwt: Hitch.Breaut: And your stuff?pwt: I carried it. Everything I owned fit in my backpack.Breaut: Well aren’t you just the pathetic little sob story.pwt: No Sir.Breaut: No?pwt: No Sir.Breaut: You seem pretty pathetic to me.pwt: Maybe so but if I am I’m despicable not tragic. Please use me. Hate me and abuse me. It’s why I’m here. But no pity please. I’m not worth it and I don’t want to be.Breaut: How dramatic. You really believe that or is this a role you. Mr. Moore’s semi-erection exited with an auditable ‘pop’ and bobbed horizontal, not yet completely deflated. She sponge-bathed Mr. Moore as he sat recovering. Karina helped Mr. Moore back to the stacked towel mat in the main room. She positioned him in his earlier ‘rest’ pose, face up, limbs close to body and loose. She rubbed his temples as she cooed her successive instructions to help him again detente from toes to head. His eventual deep slow breaths confirmed her success in the routine. She. He could hear her muffled sobs. “Fuck!” he swore. He paced outside her door, drilling his fingers through his hair as he went over and over what had just happened. He stopped and tried the door. She hadn’t locked it, so he entered.He went and sat on the bed and pulled the prostrate woman into his lap. She huddled against him, but she didn’t hug him. He rocked her and gently smoothed her hair as she sniffled. “Mary, you have to explain what the problem is. I can’t help if I don’t understand,” he.
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