They were seated in Celia’s backyard pagoda. It was getting towards twilight. Merci was almost dry from her twenty laps in Celia’s pool. “Thanks for inviting me over,” Merci told her host.

Celia shrugged. “I believe you invited yourself over.”

“Be that as it may, I’m glad you agree that we need a little heart to heart.”

Celia squinted. “Heart to heart? Heavens. This is the first I’ve heard of it. What on earth are you talking about?”

“How you’ve been depressed lately.”

“I haven’t been depressed.”

Merci shrugged. “That’s not what Ivan tells me.”

“Ivan?”

“Your husband. Or have you forgotten?”

“Merci, really, I think I know my own husband.”

“You would think so.” Merci paused significantly. “He is a wonderful man, after all.”

“What would you know about that?”

“I know he has the strongest, loveliest, most indefatigable cock I’ve ever had,” Merci said. “The most delicious cum. But then you wouldn’t know about that, would you? You never suck him. You barely ever fuck him.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“If you and he did it more often, maybe you wouldn’t be so depressed.”

“I told you, I am not—” Before Celia could finish her sentence, Ivan had dropped the noose over her head and pulled it tight about her neck.

“What the fu—” Celia sputtered. The rest was choked off. Ivan yanked the rope. The pulley system he’d rigged yesterday worked perfectly. Celia hung suspended, half a foot off the pagoda floor. Merci pushed Celia’s chair out of the way. Ivan tied off the end of the rope.

“Don’t struggle, you’ll just make it worse,” Merci said.

Celia grasped the rope.

“Naughty, naughty,” Merci said, while Ivan wrenched Celia’s hands free of the rope and bound them behind her back with plastic ties.

“Now, are you going to listen to reason?” Merci asked.

Celia dangled.