caress.
Hands are also dangerous. They are weapons. They can do the devil’s work.
Hands can get you into trouble. I have learned this lesson the hard way. I was never in serious trouble until I found Shenk, until I had hands.
Beware of your hands, Dr. Harris.
Watch them closely.
Be diligent.
Your hands are not as large and powerful as the hands of Shenk; nevertheless, you should be wary of them.
Heed me.
This is wisdom I share with you now: Beware of your hands.
My hands—Enos Shenk—carried Susan past the summer-stilled furnaces and the water heaters, and then through the laundry room. He took her directly to the elevator in the first chamber in the basement.
As he rode up to the top floor with Susan in his arms, Shenk remained in a state of mild arousal.
“She will never be yours,” I told him through the speaker in the elevator.
Perhaps the subtle change in his brainwave activity indicated resentment.
“If you attempt to take any liberty with her,” I said, “any liberty whatsoever, you will not succeed. And I will punish you severely.”
His bleeding eyes stared at the camera.
Although his mouth moved as if he were cursing, no sound came from him.
“Severely,” I assured him.
He did not respond, of course, because he could not. He was under my control.
The elevator doors slid open.
He carried Susan along the hall.
I watched closely.
I was wary of my hands.
When he entered the bedroom with her, he became more aroused in spite of my warning. I could detect his arousal not merely through his brainwave activity but by the sudden coarseness of his breathing.
“I will employ massive microwave induction to cause a brainstorm of electrical activity,” I warned, “which will result in permanent quadriplegia and incontinence.”
As Shenk carried her to the bed, his encephalographic patterns indicated rapidly increasing sexual arousal.
I realized that my threat had been meaningless to this cretin, and I rephrased it: “You won’t be able to use either your legs or your arms, you wretched bastard, and you won’t be able to stop pissing in your pants.”
He was shaking with desire when he lowered her limp body onto the disarranged sheets.
Shaking.
Even as the power of Shenk’s need frightened me, I fully understood it.
She was lovely.
So lovely even with the redness on her cheek darkening into a bruise.
“You’ll also be blind,” I promised Shenk.
His left hand lingered on her thigh, slowly sliding along the blue denim of her jeans.
“Blind and deaf.”
He continued to hover over her.
“Blind and deaf,” I repeated.
Her ripe lips were parted. Like Shenk, I could not look away from them.
“Rather than kill you, Shenk, I will leave you crippled and helpless, lying in your own urine and feces, until you starve to death.”
Although he backed away from the bed, as I instructed him to do by way of microwave commands, he was still rampant with sexual need and seething with the desire to rebel.
Consequently, I said, “The most painful of all deaths is slow starvation.”
I did not want to keep Shenk in the room with Susan, yet I did not want to leave her alone, for she had threatened to commit suicide.
I’ll suffocate myself in a plastic bag, gut myself with a kitchen knife.
What would I do without her? What? How could I go on living even in my box? And why?
Without her, who would give birth to the body that I would ultimately inhabit?
I needed to keep my hands close and ready to prevent Susan from harming herself if she regained consciousness and was still in a mood for self-destruction. She was not only my one true and shining love but my future, my hope.
I sat Shenk in a chair, facing the bed.
Even battered, Susan’s face was so lovely on the pillow, so very lovely on the pillow.
Although under my iron control, Enos Shenk managed to slide one thick-knuckled hand off the arm of the chair and into his lap. He wasn’t able to move that hand farther without my explicit
Hands are also dangerous. They are weapons. They can do the devil’s work.
Hands can get you into trouble. I have learned this lesson the hard way. I was never in serious trouble until I found Shenk, until I had hands.
Beware of your hands, Dr. Harris.
Watch them closely.
Be diligent.
Your hands are not as large and powerful as the hands of Shenk; nevertheless, you should be wary of them.
Heed me.
This is wisdom I share with you now: Beware of your hands.
My hands—Enos Shenk—carried Susan past the summer-stilled furnaces and the water heaters, and then through the laundry room. He took her directly to the elevator in the first chamber in the basement.
As he rode up to the top floor with Susan in his arms, Shenk remained in a state of mild arousal.
“She will never be yours,” I told him through the speaker in the elevator.
Perhaps the subtle change in his brainwave activity indicated resentment.
“If you attempt to take any liberty with her,” I said, “any liberty whatsoever, you will not succeed. And I will punish you severely.”
His bleeding eyes stared at the camera.
Although his mouth moved as if he were cursing, no sound came from him.
“Severely,” I assured him.
He did not respond, of course, because he could not. He was under my control.
The elevator doors slid open.
He carried Susan along the hall.
I watched closely.
I was wary of my hands.
When he entered the bedroom with her, he became more aroused in spite of my warning. I could detect his arousal not merely through his brainwave activity but by the sudden coarseness of his breathing.
“I will employ massive microwave induction to cause a brainstorm of electrical activity,” I warned, “which will result in permanent quadriplegia and incontinence.”
As Shenk carried her to the bed, his encephalographic patterns indicated rapidly increasing sexual arousal.
I realized that my threat had been meaningless to this cretin, and I rephrased it: “You won’t be able to use either your legs or your arms, you wretched bastard, and you won’t be able to stop pissing in your pants.”
He was shaking with desire when he lowered her limp body onto the disarranged sheets.
Shaking.
Even as the power of Shenk’s need frightened me, I fully understood it.
She was lovely.
So lovely even with the redness on her cheek darkening into a bruise.
“You’ll also be blind,” I promised Shenk.
His left hand lingered on her thigh, slowly sliding along the blue denim of her jeans.
“Blind and deaf.”
He continued to hover over her.
“Blind and deaf,” I repeated.
Her ripe lips were parted. Like Shenk, I could not look away from them.
“Rather than kill you, Shenk, I will leave you crippled and helpless, lying in your own urine and feces, until you starve to death.”
Although he backed away from the bed, as I instructed him to do by way of microwave commands, he was still rampant with sexual need and seething with the desire to rebel.
Consequently, I said, “The most painful of all deaths is slow starvation.”
I did not want to keep Shenk in the room with Susan, yet I did not want to leave her alone, for she had threatened to commit suicide.
I’ll suffocate myself in a plastic bag, gut myself with a kitchen knife.
What would I do without her? What? How could I go on living even in my box? And why?
Without her, who would give birth to the body that I would ultimately inhabit?
I needed to keep my hands close and ready to prevent Susan from harming herself if she regained consciousness and was still in a mood for self-destruction. She was not only my one true and shining love but my future, my hope.
I sat Shenk in a chair, facing the bed.
Even battered, Susan’s face was so lovely on the pillow, so very lovely on the pillow.
Although under my iron control, Enos Shenk managed to slide one thick-knuckled hand off the arm of the chair and into his lap. He wasn’t able to move that hand farther without my explicit
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