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Things went as planned. Friday morning when Ben came over to do some work, I asked him to come inside for a moment. “Ben, I need some things done in...the house. Interested?” I asked him. “Sure. When do you need me?” he asked. “Tomorrow night about 6 pm. Is that good?” I inquired, innocently. “Um...well...,” he stammered. “Ben? Is there a problem?” I asked. Hoping nothing was wrong, I waited with my stomach in knots. I went to great lengths to empty the house, but forgot about making sure Ben. Up on his elbow now, he looked once more into her face, apologising for his haste, explaining his need to ensure he got what he had so long desired and this time with no interruptions. He kissed her, gently, tenderly and with real affection, while she lay silently wondering about him, asking herself about her sanity in giving herself to him as she had. He rose, threw off all of his clothes and with eager fingers dragged her wet knickers down her legs and off, tossing them across the room in a. The sickly-sweet taste and smell of the gas filled my mouth and nostrils. I could hear the steady hiss of the gas trolley, the sound of my deep rhythmic breathing and the mask valve venting towards the end of each breath. My limbs felt as heavy as lead. I stared fixedly straight ahead at the clock on the wall opposite, trying to see how long it would take for the gas to subdue me. The clock hands appeared to be jumping and dancing around the clockface at random, pausing just long enough for me. "Would you be willing to work at our restaurant in Bolling, Richard? You could take business management classes at the college there. Marie is a great cook, and you could learn quite a bit from her. You could also find out how a restaurant needs to be run, in order to make any money." I don't want to work for anybody else." There was something in his voice that told me he was looking for a way to get something from me, but that something wasn't a job. I'd wondered how Walt had convinced him to.
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