Chapter Twelve
Wednesdays with the Lady Judge
Sex is power. It lays waste to our defenses. It over-rides good sense, shorts circuits the higher functions. Our universe constricts until it approximates the contours of our bodies; our breasts thud concussively as we grind into each other, our vocabulary reduced to paleolithic grunts.
— Cliff Barnes, The Illustrated Guide to the Masters of the Macabre
His kiss left her breathless, flushed, panting through her opened mouth, and desperately yearning to hang on to the hard young body that now drew away from her. Still holding her loosely in his arms, he looked deep into her softened blue eyes while his hands went up to clamp her naked shoulders. Without a word, he pressed the woman to her knees. And at his silent urging, the Honorable Judge
