She was asked to meet him after his game Saturday afternoon. But whatever she may have said was lost as Gerald pinned her to the wall, the point of the sword at her throat. “Who’s your violin teacher?” He asked. She fought a compulsive urge to yank his shirt free. If it is that you need these things, then of course we will go there. Her body rose up to meet his in a cat-like stretch and she smiled. She felt it would save explanations if she did not state she had left her home and was looking for employment. E. "It is the fiend!" she exclaimed, recoiling. And she was about as capable of intelligent argument as a runaway steam-roller.
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