I coil some nylon rope around him (doesn't stretch, lighter than a chain) and tie it up nicely. Then I unfold a metal chair in front of him and sit face-to-face.

"Okay, let's get started," I sigh. "First, I just abducted you from a hotel room in which you were fucking a woman not your wife. Poorly, I might add. She only wants your money, Burt."

"That's not true," he says.

"Which part, you were fucking the woman not your wife? Because I saw you ejaculate inside her. That's definitely fucking, and that was not your wife."

"I mean the other part."

I laugh at him. "She looked like she was waiting for an oil change, Burt. Sorry to ruin the fantasy."

"Did you hurt her?"

"Like you give a shit. No, Burt. I'm helping her, actually. Right now, by dealing with you."

"Dealing with me?"

"Your wife hired me to get rid of you. She's tired of you fucking around on her."

His jaw drops.

"No, I'm kidding. She has no idea, but she's going to find out."

"You can't!"

"Sure I can. I have pictures."

"Pictures?"

"Yes. Also GPS records, and I'm working on cloning your phone right now."

His eyes widen.

"I have all the texts."

His eyes widen farther.

"The pictures," I sigh.

I lean my chin on my hand. "She's not the only one, is she?"

He shakes his head.

"She's the oldest, isn't she?"

The blood drains from his face and he starts to shiver.

"I've been watching and recording your computer activity for a while, Burt. Not your office, though I figure I'd find some interesting shit there, too. At home. Unless you think I'll believe your wife or your two daughters are searching for things like 'jailbait' and 'teen creepshots' and visiting some of those websites I found. You like 'em young, but just young enough to be ripe. Isn't that right, Burt?"

He swallows and stares at me.

"Matter of fact, plowing your receptionist isn't enough anymore, is it? You want a really tight cunt, don't you? What's good for you, Burt? Sixteen? Fifteen? Or is it old enough to bleed, old enough to breed?"

I shift closer to him. "Tell me, what's the appeal? Is it the youth? The innocence? Do you think if you fuck a thirteen-year-old she won't know any better and think you're a stud, or do you think it'll make your shriveled little pecker look huge?"

I lean closer still.

"Or do you just get off on hurting little girls?"

"I don't... You're lying..."

I stand up and walk behind him. I wheel around a tray of dentist's tools. Picks, pincers, pliers, a tiny mirror. He stares at them.

"Top or bottom, left or right. Pick."

"Pick what?"

"Which tooth I'm going to rip out first."

"Jesus Christ!" He screams, "Help, somebody help me-"

"Keep going," I sigh. "It doesn't work. Never does."

"Why are you doing this?"

I step in front of him.

"I saw how you were looking at a little girl the other day, Burt. You see a lot of kids at your practice? Is that why there are cartoon characters on the walls? Ever feel one up, Burt? Ever give them a little laughing gas, stick your hand down their panties? Does it turn you on if they have Minnie Mouse on their underwear, you sick fuck?"

"I didn't-"

I pick up a pair of pliers and step toward him.

"Don't, oh God, please don't-"

"I know why you're begging. You're a dentist, you know how much this will hurt. But you're right, I won't. It's too cruel."

He sighs with relief.

"I really just want to make sure you don't touch any little girls, so I think I'll cut your balls off instead."

I lift a scalpel from the tray and tip back his chair.

"Stop!" he shrieks, "Please stop-"

"No more websites, Burt. No more affairs. If you so much as lay a finger on a patient, I'll do something much, much worse than cut your nuts off. Look at me."

I tip the chair back a bit more.

"Look at me."

He looks.

"If you don't do exactly as I say, I'll know. There is nowhere you can run. There is nowhere you can hide. There is no one you can call. I've made much, much harder men than you beg me to end their lives. Do you want to know how I do it?"

Holding his chair with one hand, I lift a potato peeler from the tray and hold it in front of his face.

Burt screams.

I have to confess, I don't know what I'd do with a potato peeler, but that always works.

I tip the chair forward and Burt starts sobbing.

"Listen to me very carefully," I tell him. "This is what you're going to do."

Rose "Okay," Burt says cheerfully.

He doesn't look cheerful. He's white as a sheet, and he's got black circles under his eyes, which dart everywhere like he expects someone to jump out of the shadows and grab him.

"Okay," he says again, like he's been practicing this.

We're all in the waiting area, before the doors open. Me, the hygienist, Laura, Burt's assistants.

"I'm making a few changes around here," he says, his voice tight. "First, Rose and Laura will be going to a four-day-per-week work schedule."

My jaw drops.

Oh my God, I won't be able to pay the mortgage! I can't feed my kids on- He looks at me and the scowling Laura. "Don't worry, you're also receiving a fifty-percent raise and I've talked to the outsourced human resources people. We're upgrading everyone's health insurance. Also, Rose and Laura will not have to wait for six months of employment. You will both receive two weeks of paid vacation, two weeks of paid sick leave, and as many unpaid days as you need with forty-eight hours' notice."

He shifts on his feet. "Also, one of the assistants will be in the room with me at all times with patients from now on."

He takes a deep breath.

"Finally, I've put the practice up for sale. I've already had a few bites. Once a partner buys in, I'll start reducing my hours. I'm planning to retire by the end of the year."

Everyone in the room just stares at him.

"Last thing, uh, Rose, take a half day today. You're off tomorrow. That's it. Um, carry on."

Burt turns on his heels and disappears into his office, leaving all of us staring at each other.

I blink a few times. It's already eight o'clock. I can go home in about four hours. I want to jump for joy. I rush back into the reception are and sit down, and happily return to running the insurance claims.

By the time quitting time rolls around, I almost have to remind myself. I'm ahead of the claims, and as of right now it's officially not my problem.

As I'm walking out, it hits me. I don't have a ride. Quentin wouldn't know to pick me up, and I can't call him. He doesn't have a cell phone. I should have pressed him for his home phone number.

Sighing, I start for the bus station. It's only been, what, three days of skipping the bus ride? Yet I feel I've almost forgotten what it's like.

A horn blasts behind me and I almost jump out of my skin. I spin around to see Quentin rolling up in his Impala.

I walk to the passenger side window and peer in.

"What are you doing here?"

He looks over at me slyly. "Need a ride, gorgeous?"

"Maybe," I say, "but my mother told me not to accept rides from strange men."

"Get in," he growls.

Laughing a little, I slip into the car and sit next to him.

"Seriously, what are you doing here?"

"I was out cruising and I just happened to drive by and spot you. I could spot that red hair a mile away, Rosey."

"Don't call me Rosey."

"I will if I want."

"You were out driving around. What happened to working from home?"

He shrugs and shifts in the seat. "Don't worry about that. It's my day off. I can't waste a beautiful day like this." He gestures at the bright sun above. "Perfect day to pick up a hot nurse and eat her pussy."

"I'm not a nurse."

"But I am going to eat your pussy. Your place or mine?"

"Yours."

"Nah, your place. I pick."

Before I can answer him he floors it and throws me back in the seat, screaming. Quentin and his damned car. He takes a turn and I go scooting across the seat and end up with my arms around his neck before he finally slows down. I sit there panting and push off from him.

"Getting excited?"

"You drive like a crazy person."

"I just like driving you crazy."

I don't know what it is about him, but just talking like that, he gets my blood pumping. I must be beet red.

When we arrive at the house, I must not be getting out of the car fast enough for him. He opens my door and takes me by the arm and pulls me to my feet, and half drags me to the front door. I fumble with the keys, and his hand moves from my arm to the small of my back then slides down my ass and squeezes. I jerk and let out a little yelp as the door swings open and he pushes me inside.

Quentin pushes it shut behind him and grabs me by the waist. My feet barely touch the floor on the way to the couch and he pulls my legs out from under me. I drop onto the seat and he grabs my scrubs so hard I hear stitches pop, and he rips them down and off my legs, tossing them aside with a flourish, then yanks my shoes off.

I press my legs together and bite my lip. Quentin grabs my ankles and spreads my legs then yanks my panties up and off.