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30
Cole
She was learning. She was conforming to my will and yet she still fought. That made her nearly perfect.
I loved disciplining her. But just as much, I loved watching the changes in her as the drugs cleaned her out and straightened her out. Her old life would be waiting for her. Probably. There was always the chance she'd lose an aspect of it. If Seattle PD didn't want her back I could make arrangements for her to get in somewhere else. I'd read her personnel files and I knew she was damned good at what she was doing. One reason to get her off the drugs was to keep her looking as young as she did for at least another year or two so she could go on doing good in the world. I believed in her work.
I'd lost my little sister to drugs. I was in med school at the time, planning to be a doctor, like my father and grandfather. Probably I would have been a good one, if not the one with the best bedside manner. I saw problems of the flesh as challenges to solve. Other people saw them as excuses or conditions or life afflictions or reasons to get out of whatever it was they wanted to get out of. That put me at odds with a great many patients. Added to that, I didn't like to prescribe after I lost my sister Emily because I thought drugs were more of a mask for whatever was really going on than, in most cases, a solution, and people would have had a problem with me.
Also telling a frustrated woman to have her husband take her across his knee once a week for a maintenance spanking, or to really take her to task with a hairbrush or enema if she'd been too bad - that would probably get me in trouble with the medical board rather than an award for knowing what a lot of women really needed.
There were places Annie wasn't coming along so fast. So far she was resisting our sleeping together which would only make it sweeter when I did take her, with or without her consent. She thought I didn't know that the mists of addiction still curled through her veins.
I knew. That's part of what the real world tests would be about. Chancy, but she couldn't spend the rest of her life in my hidden Southern Nevada compound. There was a danger that she would revert to her old ways and dive face-first into the opiates.
But it was a better chance to take while she was still in my control and I could clean her up and make it a hiccough in her recovery, rather than a derailment of it.
So the tests had purpose.
That, and pushing her would be fun.
I began to plan the dinner party.
