“Are you questioning me?” Mario asked.
“No, sir,” Miranda replied with a definite trace of sarcasm. It was mild, something she would have gotten away with a few weeks before.
“Perhaps you’d like a repeat of last week’s journey over my lap?” he asked.
“I’d rather not,” Miranda replied candidly.
“Then start again.”
Miranda continued. It was odd that Mario made no suggestion, gave her no instruction or explanation as to why he had her doing an already perfect routine over and over and over. Another two times and she’d had it! Whirling around, she blurted out, though with as little anger as she could manage, “What on earth are you doing?” She tried looking flustered more than upset, thinking she could illicit some kind of friendly response, and reasonable explanation.
“What did I tel
