Chapter 17

But God, he wanted Ginevra. He went into the bathroom she’d directed him to, drew in a deep breath, and carefully read the directions on the box. Okay, he could do this.

He hoped.

* * * *

Charles had never had an enema before. He removed his clothes, folded them and placed them on the edge of the tub, and knelt on the rug before the sink.

“Relax, Browne,” he told himself. He worked the nozzle in carefully—it felt weird, but not too weird—and began to squeeze the plastic bottle.

* * * *

Charles finished cleaning himself up and glanced at his watch. He’d been in the bathroom for twenty-five minutes. Would Ginevra think he’d fallen in?

He took another deep breath; he was going to do this. He avoided his gaze in the mirror and walked back to Ginevra’s bedroom, naked and tense, and with a hard-on that surprised him.