I decided to change the subject to something more neutral. I looked down the length of our naked bodies. “Well, it’s a good thing you weren’t named after old Felix, after all.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, ’cause that’s no frankfurter. Looks more like a cocktail weenie to me.” My hand was pinned in just the proper position to tickle it. Which I did.
It’s astonishing how fast he rose to his own defense. I managed to beat him off, but he attacked on another front. My front, to be precise. I bucked and screamed for mercy, but he had none to give. He forced his fingers in and in and in, and his smug little grin only increased.
“Stop smiling like that,” I forced out between gasps.
“It’s the only way I know how,” he said, and his voice was remarkably cool for a torturer. “You make such funny faces when you
