She looked down at the coffee table in silence and slowly picked up some of the implements. She almost vomited when she swished the cane. She finally said, closing her eyes tightly, as if she couldn't believe the choice she had made, "Your hand." "Good choice," he said, enjoying every word. "There is some intimacy involved but I think it's the least painful of all the instruments you could have chosen." He sat down on the couch that was against the left wall of her office and faced the front of her desk. "Come here," he said. She was only one foot away from him, but she took the two steps towards him that put her knee a few inches from his thigh. He could feel her fear. She was out of control, about to deliver herself into the hands of someone who wanted to hurt her, and she knew it. He motioned to her to stand over his lap and to lower herself onto it, across it.