He unscrewed her foot and dropped it on the floor beside the
bed.
“You’re staying the night,” he said. “I’m not taking no for
an answer.”
“Oh, I HATE it when you do that!” Eleanor pushed a chestful
of air between her lips, looking down at the stump at the end of her leg. A threaded
spigot protruded from the lower end of her calf, her ankle and everything
beyond it out of sight and now out of reach. “You know you’ve only got to ask.
I’m programmed to comply, whatever you ask.”
“That’s true, isn’t it?” Jacques clapped his hands and then
threaded his fingers together, turning his palms outermost and then flexing them
until his knuckles cracked. “Okay, remove the other one too. And your left
hand.”
Eleanor sighed. This evening was not progressing as she’d anticipated.
But she still obeyed him. She had no choice.
“Right. My turn.” Jacques took hold of her remaining hand,
pressed the opposing points on either side of her wrist to disengage it and
then removed it too, holding it triumphantly above her. “Looky here,” he said,
grinning. “How about that for underhand behaviour?”
Eleanor turned her face away. He was incorrigible enough
without her encouraging him. She closed her fingers so her nails bit into her
palm, forming a fist.
“Hey! You can still use that? Now, that gives me an idea!”
He dropped her hand onto the bed, his face suddenly close to
hers.
“Memory purge time,” he said.
