3 Thank God it's Monday Read Free Page A

being
restrained made her angry. She had no idea where she could be. She tried to
remember.
    Her brain did not return any information. She knew who she
was. She was not suffering from amnesia.
    “Help!” she cried again without hope.
    She was sure no one heard. Or if they did, they would put a
note in her file and wait for her to behave erratically before charging in and
administering some drug or chiding her for digging grooves into the padded
armrest with her nails.
    She rolled her head to loosen the muscles in her neck. She
popped her back and shoulder and tried to get comfortable in the chair. She had
been here for some time, it seemed. Her back and bottom were stiff and sore.
    “Can someone bring me some water at least?” she asked in as
reasonable manner as she could. She hoped someone would hear. She had so many
questions. Where was she? Why was she here? Who was the no good son of a—
    The door opened and Gary Forsythe walked through. He shut it
behind him and locked it. He carried a clipboard and a plastic cup. His glasses
were slightly askew and his hair looked like he had been napping. A fair amount
of stubble dusted his chin and jaw. Under different circumstances this rugged
look would actually make him more attractive, she thought. Under these specific
circumstances, she gritted her teeth so hard that her jaw hurt.
    He looked at her almost apologetically. He raised his
eyebrows and the cup.
    “You asked for some water?” he asked as he came closer.
    She wanted to jump out of the chair and claw out his eyes. Something
about the way he hesitated told her that she was telegraphing her intent.
    “I want to know where I am and why,” she said slowly. It
took a monumental effort not to scream and yell. She wanted to murder this
twerp.
    “Of course,” he said.
    “I am only being reasonable, I think.”
    He came closer. He held out the cup to her lips as he neared.
She could smell his body and the food he had recently consumed. He smelled like
onions and grease, she decided. She sipped the water he offered. The water was
tepid. Nevertheless, it was a delight as it wet her mouth and throat. She felt
her empty stomach clench in response. When was the last time I ate? She
wondered.
    She looked over the rim of the cup. He was watching her
drink with his mouth open, carefully trying not to spill the water. She lifted
her chin and pushed the cup away with her lips to signal that she had enough. It
was all she could do to stop herself from darting forward and biting his
fingers.
    “There. Is that better?”
    She turned her head and looked at him askance.
    “You actually care how I feel? I don’t know, Gary. It seems
to me this would be an awful way to get a woman in bed. A little too kinky for
me.”
    Gary blushed.
    “It’s not like that. You are a patient.”
    “A patient that needs to be strapped to a chair? I think you
are mixing up your sexual fantasies Gary. Either you want the nurse and patient
or you want the bondage.”
    He shook his head.
    Gary was an easy target to wheedle. She understood that he
was strongly attracted to her and in some ways that left him vulnerable to her.
She had that advantage with many men. It gave her confidence and she always
managed to use her gifts to manipulate them. This usually gave her pleasure. Not
many men were immune to her raw animal magnetism and superior sexuality. Except
for Monday.
    Monday!  Did he have something to do with this? As Gary
struggled with his desire and guilt, she tried to remember the last time she
had seen Jake.
    She remembered a boat, a rough sweater, and rough waters. She
remembered enjoying the sun and the salt and the sight of Jake’s lean jaw and
easy demeanor. Where was that? When was that?
    “Giselle, I need to tell you something.”
    She shook her head and tried to shrug. It was difficult to
pull off with the effect she wanted since her arms and chest were strapped down.
All she managed was a little jerk of her narrow shoulders.
    “I am