Chapter 2“What in hell’s name?” Donald bellowed as he stepped out of the washroom holding a hand towel. He stopped. His ability to speak vanished. He could neither howl nor whisper. Donald didn’t believe the evidence of his own eyes. A replica of the boy who co-starred in his most erotic fantasies lay sprawled on his rug amidst a rapidly spreading burgundy stain, which could only be his bottle of Bordeaux.
“I’m sorry, Sir. I’ll clean it up immediately,” the boy said in a panic. “Sally said I shouldn’t come in, but they told me to make sure you had this…” He pointed his shaking hand in the direction of the large heavily taped parcel, which had replaced the bottle on his desk. “I have to do whatever they tell me…down there,” the boy babbled.
Donald was happy the boy became so flustered. It
