Chapter 48: The Visit to Rodday's

Witherspoon's people began infiltrating Rodday's club around two- thirty; by four o'clock, everyone in the place had an agent in place to neutralize them. When the door opened and Armand, Tabitha, Paul, Scott, and four others walked through the front door, the bouncers and barmaids had no shot at a warning. The guard at Rodday's door made an attempt, but he was double-covered; the female agent who had been engaging him in conversation took him out quietly, and the male standing by made sure he didn't hit the floor any too loudly. Customers were told that if they wanted to leave, they'd end up being sequestered somewhere else for their own protection, so why not have a drink on the house? Nobody left.

Video surveillance of the club gave Rodday no warning, either; Armand's agents had sabotaged it with a loop, but Rodday wasn't paying any attention, anyway. At the moment, he was watching Flood and two of his enforcers abuse a couple of his whores who had performed poorly the previous night. Flood was seated in a swivel chair with his cast propped on a desk; the whore was fishing in his sweatpants for his cock, having been told that if she didn't get him off quickly, she would be beaten. Flood was on painkillers, and doubted that he could even get an erection, so the result was a foregone conclusion...

Suddenly, the door swung open, and there were eight more people in the room. While his people disarmed and tied Rodday's goon's wrists with plastic cable ties, Armand announced, "Mr. Pinkham, we have a problem."

"YOU have a problem," Rodday blustered. "I'll have backup in here any second!"

Armand smiled; as usual, it wasn't pleasant. "I doubt that. There are thirty seven of my people in the club and on the grounds, and every one of your known associates is either neutralized or under surveillance."

One of the agents made to escort the whores out the door, but Tabitha touched Paul's arm and shook her head. Paul stopped him. "They stay. Untie them." The whores, who would have been just as happy out of the line of fire, went to stand along the far wall.

"So what do you want?" Rodday growled.

"When we first entered into communication, I assumed that you were sophisticated and had some common sense," Armand said blandly. "Ms. Adams, here, informed you that she had protection, but you ignored her and made her the star of that little epic of yours." Rodday glared at Flood over this particular charge; it had been Flood's responsibility to ensure that Tabitha wasn't just running her mouth, and he'd apparently fucked THAT up. "I considered that to be an honest mistake, but I assumed that my position was clear when we met to discuss it."

"I don't let others tell me how to run my business," Rodday grated.

"An admirable sentiment." Armand nodded at Flood and Thud Thompson dumped him out of the chair, righted it, and placed it for Armand. Looking over his shoulder at Flood, Thud grunted, "You scream like a girl." There was a general chuckle.

Armand continued, "All of us must bow to economic pressures at some point, however. Besides, Ms. Adams is an independent businesswoman."

"I thought you just said you were running her?" Rodday grunted.

"No, I'm merely her insurance agent," Armand replied blandly. "Unfortunately, I'm seeing repeated claims, and thus must take action to keep from losing money and to properly protect the insured." He gathered himself and glared at Rodday, "Why did you assume that I was not serious at our meeting?"

Rodday grunted, "You're not big on the scene around here..."

"I'd like to keep it that way, wouldn't you?" Armand reposted.

"Well, yeah," Rodday replied, surprised.

Armand sat back. "Since then, things haven't gone too well, have they? There was the incident at Ms. Adams' apartment, which I am certain will stick in the memories of some of your employees," he said blandly as his eyes swept over Flood, who had been allowed to arrange himself against the wall. "One of your problems is your lack of an intelligence-gathering apparatus. Do you have any information on the identity of the young woman whom your representative offered to rape during that encounter?"

Rodday shrugged. "No."

Armand surprised everyone by leaping up and smashing his foot down on Flood's cast four times, once to emphasize each word, "SHE IS MY DAUGHTER!!!" Flood screamed like a banshee and passed out.

In the stunned silence that followed, Armand resumed his seat. "As you can see, I take some exception to threats delivered onto my family; still, I believe that I delivered a measured response, don't you?"

"Uhhh, yeah." Rodday, who had to date seriously underestimated his opponent, now began to wonder whether he would leave the room alive.

"But that didn't stop you from attempting ANOTHER attack on Ms. Adams last night! Tell me, what did you plan to accomplish?" Armand was again all reasonableness.

"She recovered too quick from the other thing," Rodday grunted, "and was out thumbing her nose at me! I figured a broken arm might cool things a bit..."

Armand nodded. "Your original effort was a masterpiece, except for the unfortunate choice in victims -- which I felt was an honest mistake. But the follow-up has been classic strong-arm tactics without thought behind them -- perhaps I've over-estimated you; what do YOU think?"

Rodday thought about it; this shit could get him KILLED! "I think maybe I underestimated YOU. Mebbe I should re-think things a bit..."

Armand gave a nod of agreement. "Perhaps. Certainly, you've been your own worst enemy, here..."

"Well, I can't afford to have some old whore thumbing her nose at me -- bad for business!"

"Well, business has already gone south," Armand replied. "As a result of these little depredations, Ms. Adams must reorganize her business to handle the increased costs involved in protecting herself from unscrupulous competition. Since she would be unable in any case to defray those expenses on her own, she must take on employees to add income. In other words, you have created a serious competitor."

"Yeah, right," Rodday sneered.

"Ms. Adams won't be streetwalking, however -- you may maintain your exclusive franchise on that; instead, she'll be setting up more comfortable places of business where the customer need not bring along his own facilities and where other services can be provided -- all at a higher price, of course."

"Y'all can call me 'Madam'," Tabitha interjected.

"Ms. Adams may be posting personnel in popular locations, but they will not be conducting retail business -- merely advertising the competitive product. Your low-end cash-and-carry customers will continue to utilize your staff -- others, more interested in comfort and safety and pleasant surroundings will utilize hers." Armand leaned forward and glared, "You will NOT interfere with Ms. Adams OR her staff, or I will remove any requirement you have to conduct ANY type of business! Are we clear?"

"Yeah." Rodday grunted, but he didn't appear to be convinced.

Armand eyed him. "You have thus far assumed that my bark is worse than my bite, despite a loud growl and a couple of nips. I recommend that you re-assess the situation, as I have lost patience. Your people have yet to even score against mine -- and mine could have easily left you with embarrassing piles of dead bodies to clean up. The gloves are off. Next time, the consequences will be unsupportable. Do you understand?"

"You can't talk to me like that!"

"I just did. Now we come to the portion of the entertainment wherein Ms. Adams gets her due..."

"Whoa! Whoa! You can't do that!"

"He's right, ya know," Tabitha interjected. "If I git mine in front o' witnesses, ya might as well kill him, 'cause he's too fuckin' stupid ta stop..."

Armand sighed. "Another object lesson, then. Arrange that pair on the table, there. On their backs. Heads over the edges." The pair in question were Rodday's other two bulls. There was a certain amount of struggle, but the pair were positioned on their backs on a table, one head dangling off either end. "Okay. Ladies," he waved at the pair of whores. "Come over here and divest yourselves of your underclothing, please. We're going to turn the tables a bit, here." The women fearfully stepped out of their panties. "Gentlemen," Armand addressed the pair of thugs on the table, "and I use that term loosely, this is what is going to happen. The ladies here are going to present their genitals for service, which you will accomplish with your tongues."

"Shit, I ain't doin' THAT!" one of them roared. "You know where them things have been?"

"I'm assuming that they've been cum-dumpsters for the likes of you," Armand murmured blandly. "Nonetheless, you'll do as I ask, I think, for the alternative will be... unpleasant. Ladies, if your chosen partner fails to bring you an orgasm in a reasonable amount of time, my associate, here," (Jason stepped forward, leering evilly as only he could), "will emasculate him." Jason brandished a wicked-looking surgical device. "As for you," Armand addressed the noisemaker, "we can move right to that if you like..."

"NOOOOO!!!"

"Then I suggest that you shut up and bend some effort to proving that you are capable of pleasuring a woman!" Armand snapped.

"I dunno," one of the women murmured.

"Ah. Do I detect some concern that Mr. Pinkham might visit some vengeance upon you?" Armand queried. "He won't. Anything that occurs to you will be visited upon him -- with interest. Do you understand?" Armand eyed Rodday. "In fact, he'd better see to it that you're babied, because my people will assume that no little accident that befalls you is coincidental, and will react swiftly. If they make a mistake, well, we'll just put it on account..."

"Y'all can come to work for me, Wilma," Tabitha added, "An' I got THIS fer protection!" She took in the room's contents with a wave.

Wilma turned to Rodday, who growled, "Yeah, yeah -- you're a pain in the ass anyway! We're done! But you'll have to get your drugs elsewhere..." he added craftily.

"Ms. Adams' organization will pay for detox," Armand replied. "Unless you wish to continue drug abuse -- which I guarantee you will interfere with your employment." Tabitha nodded agreement.

Wilma eyed Tabitha in disbelief. "I been to parties with you, Tab... You're..."

"Clean," Armand interrupted. "and likely to stay that way, in the main, given the decrease in her personal safety if she doesn't." Tabitha's eyebrows shot up, but she nodded.

"Awright," Wilma replied. "But I'm hard to get off..."

"Well, this is for you, remember, not a customer. Enjoy yourself!" Armand urged.

"How long?" the other woman piped up, sidling up and exposing herself to a tongue.

"Let's just say that I don't want to get bored," Armand replied. "Tabitha?" He picked up Rodday with his eyes.

"Nah. We've already discussed it. Push him too hard, an' he'll get stupid."

"Getting stupid would be severely career-limiting for him," Armand replied. "His troops have borne the brunt of past failures, and I'm uncertain that he has a visceral understanding of his position. I think that he needs some... personal reminder of this visit."

"I wanna use them on the bastid," Tabitha growled, glaring and waving at the emasculators, "but he'd jus' kill hisself tryin' ta git even! I gotta live wit' him as a competitor, even if I don' hafta be scared o' him. Le's not set him up ta get dead."

Armand glared at Rodday. "Remember who your benefactor is; I still have a matter to settle with you over your attempted attack on my daughter! Only Ms. Adams' concern over your goodwill protects you here..." In the background, one of the whores moaned in pleasure.

Tabitha turned an amused glance on the women. "Don' be shy! Git yourself off! Do what ya hafta! An' if you boys wanna keep your balls, y'all better be workin' it!" Armand waved her over, grinning, and Tabitha started shucking the trousers off one of the hoods with practiced hands. "Well, lookit that! I wonder how big THAT gets when it's stiff?" She started jacking the shaft of a decently-sized black cock, which rose to something over seven inches. "I wonder if it'll still get stiff after them balls come off?" She fondled the heavy testicles in their fat sack. "Sure will be a shame, makin' a eunuch outta THIS stud!" The victim's tonguing became frantic; the recipient, (Wilma) began to pant and rub her breasts. Tabitha circled the table and undid the pants of the other victim, who thrashed to the point that one of Armand's men had to pin him to the table. "Damn, boy! It ain't like you got as much ta lose!" Tabitha chided. Fear was obviously at work on this one; his cock was shrunken and limp in Tabitha's grasp, even after a bit of manipulation. "Mebbe you oughta be suckin' cocks!" The whore being serviced, one 'Bunny', leaned over at that point and braced her hands on the hood's upper thighs, gasping; apparently, his efforts were bearing fruit. "Good tongue, Hon? Mebbe we oughta hire him ta cunt-lap female customers after he's cut..."

This went on for a good ten minutes; even Wilma was showing signs of arousal, and Bunny finished once, Tabitha making a running commentary on the horrors of turning men into eunuchs the entire time. Armand looked around, "I'm getting bored. Wake up Flood." Paul poured water on Flood's face, and the big black sputtered and opened his eyes. "Welcome back," Armand smiled sardonically. "Put him up on the table; Put that one (the hood who had succeeded with Bunny) on the floor. You (Bunny) can continue to use him -- just kneel over him." Two agents wrestled the hood off the table and replaced him with Flood; Bunny, who was getting off on more than one dimension of the current party, knelt over her victim and started rubbing herself off on his face and tongue.

Armand came to stand over Flood. "How long have you been awake?" he asked.

"I--"

"That long, huh?" Turning to Jason, he added, "Cut him." Jason stepped in, wielding the cutters. Flood screamed bloody murder as the cutters bit into his scrotum, and wailed and moaned afterward. Armand, watching blandly, remarked, "If you had indeed raped my daughter, I'd have cut off your cock; be happy that you still have some of what you had..." Turning to Rodday, he announced, "We'll be leaving now. The next visit won't be as pleasant." Turning to Wilma and Bunny, he added, "Ladies, it might be sensible for you to accompany us." Finally, he turned to Paul, "Take them out. Painfully." Glancing at Thud Thompson, he said, "Thud," and nodded at Rodday.

Rodday never knew what hit him, but the others did. There were several broken bones before it was all over -- but Armand and everyone but the heavy hitters were long gone. Outside, Armand remarked to Jason, "I wonder how long it will take Flood to discover that you DIDN'T emasculate him... Perhaps we'll clue in Rodday by telephone tomorrow so that he doesn't stew too much..."

Howard Silverman was a wreck! Caitlin's remark about his not being forward enough had effectively silenced conversation; Howard had no idea how to proceed from there, so nothing happened on the drive back. Now, two hours later, Howard was alternating between pacing his office and sitting behind his desk in a funk. Obviously, there was a major opportunity of some type here -- and he was letting it slip away due to a total inability to develop a coherent strategy!

Objectively, he couldn't really figure out what the draw was; Caitlin was thin, a little bowlegged, knobby kneed, and she had those tits that seemed to kind of be sliding down her chest. The face was a mixed bag, too -- the nose was good, but the teeth weren't, the eyes were nice, but the hair was kind of thin, if dirty blonde. She was only a little more robust than the fragile bird type -- which wasn't hard to find at temple. On the other hand, the fragile bird type tended to be high-strung, among their other issues, and Caitlin appeared to be pretty placid in temperament. Also in the good news column was that even though she'd apparently borne a daughter (from the picture on her desk -- Howard had never been able to ask her about it), she hadn't spread to half her height -- something ELSE easily found at temple, among other places. Howard HAD a heavy housefrau of a mother, and it had taken him until he was twenty-five to escape from home; another mother was something he DIDN'T want.

Maybe it was sex -- the grapevine said Caitlin liked to go out and enjoy herself, and occasionally took a lover, although she never went out with anyone from work, so it was just hearsay. That information made her appear available, which could be a major source of hope. Howard's sex life consisted of an occasional depressing cash-and-carry run-in with a hooker punctuating long periods of dating his right hand. He'd tried gay sex briefly at one point, but his looks and personality led others to think he was a bottom, and he wasn't -- blowjobs were great only as long as he was on the receiving end, and FORGET the other thing... He had a substantial collection of porn and was always surprised at the variety of women who could be induced to have wild sex in front of a camera -- but the vast majority seemed to be some boring variation on big-breasted bleach blondes -- the same type that exploded to twice their original size after a pregnancy. Howard had deliberately taken to hunting the racks at the local porn shop for movies that featured other ethnic groups -- blacks, Hispanics -- even just women who were brunette and apparently proud of it -- for the variety involved, rather than any real interest in dating women of other races.

Howard's boredom might have been a down-check for Caitlin, except for three things: She was real, the hair was undoubtedly NOT a bleach job, and, as previously mentioned, she had NOT exploded after childbirth. Reality was a big thing; Howard knew well the difference between reality and fantasy -- he did a lot better in the latter arena. But there was something else about Caitlin, something that it took a while to get a grip on; as far as Howard could tell, it was best defined as independence. Caitlin wasn't marketing herself for a husband, even passively; she was doing her own thing, and had been for some time, and she appeared to like it that way. This was a refreshing change from the general run of women that Howard was exposed to; either they were ALREADY married and making their husband miserable, or they were riding hard after anything that appeared to be both male and reasonably successful. Discussions with his male friends suggested that the price they paid for sex was too high; the occasional roll with a partner who was aging as rapidly as they were was paid for with responsibility, children, mounting bills, and the expenses that come with keeping up appearances. Howard probably got as much and as good from hookers, to hear them tell it -- and he didn't have to put up with what went on for the other twenty-three hours and forty-five minutes.

Caitlin also had a refreshing tendency not to resort to duplicity; Howard didn't know how many women she had outlasted in the office by the simple technique of not leading him anywhere by the nose. She'd held him at arm's length, and been forthright about it, not taking advantage of him while accepting his offerings out of politeness. Most others would drift for a bit, then begin sponging off him before either moving on to taking serious advantage or suddenly turning and treating him like a toad (usually, there was another man involved, in this case). Today had been a sea change, but it had still been vintage Caitlin; the argument over the check at the pizza joint was a prime example.

Somewhere, somehow, Howard had done something right -- that much was obvious. What WASN'T obvious was what it was -- and without that information, Howard had no idea how to capitalize upon success.

Howard's agitation was highly visible in Customer Service because he would show up at the door every half-hour or so and rock indecisively from foot to foot. Since it was a quiet day, he attracted quite a lot of attention from bored staff. Finally, Ginger Behrman hopped up and approached Caitlin, "What is Howard's problem? I don't even understand why he's here today, never mind why he keeps coming around and looking jumpy. Is somebody planning a layoff, or something?"

Caitlin had a pretty good idea what was up; Howard was tracking Erin's theory pretty closely. Caitlin was amazed at the insight her daughter had provided her; she could predict Howard's reactions -- or the lack of them -- precisely. When it seemed like she'd let the cat out of the bag in the car, she'd left it at that and held her peace, allowing Howard to do what he would with the information. Historically, a gaffe of that magnitude would have been automatically jumped on by a male companion, with predictable results; without Erin's input, she's have decided that Howard was gay by now, since nothing else made sense. Now, however, things were clear; Howard's agitation came directly from the fact that he didn't know what to do and was virtually paralyzed by fear that any action that he took would screw things up. There was really only one thing to do for the poor dear (when did he become that?) -- let him off the hook... "I don't think so. Let me go talk to him."

Howard, seated at his desk, looked up from a blank study to find Caitlin standing in the door. "Howard, you're making the troops nervous. What's the problem?"

Howard opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again. "Uuhhh..."

Caitlin shook her head. "You're over-thinking this, and you're going to have a stroke or something. Why don't you just ask me to dinner?" Howard's eyes popped. "That's what you want, isn't it?"

"Y-yes."

"Well?"

"Would you like to go to dinner?" Howard got out.

"When?"

"I-- Uh, I don't know, how about..."

"Tonight? Tonight's fine. I should go home and change. Where are we going?"

Howard's mouth moved, but nothing came out.

"How about Andrea's?" Caitlin picked up smoothly. "It's a bit dressy, but I can dig out something, and you're already prepared..."

"Okay."

"We can leave after work and you can follow me to my place. I'll change clothes and we can go from there, and maybe beat the dinner rush. How's that?"

"Good! Fine! Great!" Howard couldn't even move, he was so weak and shocky.

"Okay, I'll see you in thirty minutes." Caitlin turned and walked out, smiling to herself. If Howard didn't grow a spine, she'd own him -- but if he didn't have a cock, it wouldn't matter, anyway...

Howard sat there, his insides quaking. Suddenly, he was driving in the high-speed lane, and he was unfamiliar with the vehicle's controls -- shucks, he wasn't even sure what kind of vehicle it was! Better take it easy... He got up and headed for the washroom to check to see if he looked as shaky as he felt.

At the McGrath home, activities had drifted in a predictable direction, i.e., away from serious TV viewing. It had been a slow thing, and neither of them was totally to blame, but things had heated up considerably. Erin hadn't exactly walled herself in; she'd met Toby at the door in a sweatsuit that more closely resembled a pair of pajamas -- an item with a loose top in soft fabrics with an elastic waistband. There had been a bra and panties under the rig, but without a rigid defense the whole outfit would be ineffective. That defense was totally lacking; currently, Erin was lying atop Toby, who had a firm, bare ass cheek in each hand.

Toby had inadvertently made himself a much tougher nut to crack in jeans, a T-shirt and a long-sleeved shirt over that, but Erin had been persistent and everything was loose and in disarray. The dress shirt was wide open and the T-shirt halfway up his chest; his belt and fly were open and sagging below his hips, and his cock was out through the opening in his boxers, prodding and oozing pre-cum all over Erin's bare belly. Erin raised herself a bit and gasped, "I've been warned that I oughta hold out until the third date..."

Toby shrugged. "Okay. Promise you won't get grossed out if I juice all over your stomach, though." It wasn't as if just making out with Erin wasn't the hottest thing he'd ever done...

Erin fluttered all over at the idea of Toby getting that excited over her. "I promise!"

"Cool." He went back to nibbling her ear, something he'd discovered caused her transports of delight.

Ten minutes later, she lurched up, "God! I'm burning up!" The sweatsuit jacket went flying, followed by the bra, which had already been riding loosely above her well-pawed breasts.

"Uh uh!" Toby warned. "Go get the jacket! If your Mom comes home..."

"Oh, all right!" Erin flounced off and collected the top, dragging it on but leaving it unbuttoned. "It's Saturday -- maybe she'll go out..." Then grinning like an imp, she shucked out of the bottoms and panties, dropped the damp panties on the floor and stepped back into the thin sweatpants. Toby just held his breath and watched, bug-eyed. Sweet! Crawling back atop him, Erin murmured, "Now, where were we?"

Fifteen minutes later, she was gasping and hunching atop him; the sweatpants hung below the twin hills of her ass and she was rubbing her furry crack along the underside of Toby's furious hard-on. "I'm not gonna make it!" she gasped. "If I get off and you don't, I'll suck you, okay?"

"Do you want me to lick you out?" Toby gasped.

"Mmmmmm," Erin moaned. "Have you ever done it?"

"No, but I don't mind learning!" Toby gasped.

"That'd be SOOO cool!" Erin moaned. "I don't think I can resist! You won't think I'm a slut, will you?"

"Nah. We won't be doing it, so maybe you'll make it to three," Toby grunted. "But I wouldn't come down on you anyway -- this is tough to control!"

"Oh, God! SOLD!" Erin started kicking out of her sweatpants and turning around.

Moments later, Toby was pulling her twat down toward his face, and Erin was getting her first good look at what was QUITE a nice cock, (much nicer than Scotty's and not as gooey from pre-cum). Erin could feel Toby's breath on her pubes; she settled her lips on the bulbous cock head -- and a key scraped in the lock, and the door popped open!

Erin was facing the wrong way, but she knew what she was hearing. "Dammit! Dammit! Dammit! Dammit! DAMMIT!" she wailed, sitting up.

"Erin!" Caitlin's rebuke actually came more as a result of her daughter's vehement cursing than the fact that she was sitting bare-assed on her new boyfriend's face -- that hadn't really registered.

"MOM!" Erin's total exasperation masked everything else -- fear, frustration, shame... How DID Mom manage to arrive at JUST the wrong moment?

Caitlin rooted herself in the door. "Get dressed, you two. I have a guest!" She pulled the door shut and gave vent to her own exasperation, "I have an eighteen year old daughter who is... sexually mature, and has a new boyfriend. Will you give me a moment?"

"Certainly," Howard shrugged.

Caitlin smiled reassuringly at Howard and stepped into the house, closing the door behind her. Toby was about half put together, giving off waves of embarrassment, but Erin was throwing on her sweatpants without panties, her movements jerky with anger and frustration. "I thought you two were going to wait a bit," Caitlin observed mildly.

"That's easy to talk about when we're not together, but it's HARD when we are!" Erin ranted while she snatched her underclothing from the floor. Crushing the wad in her hand, she wailed, "We came up with a compromise, and were all set, then YOU..."

"Well, you're just going to have to develop better timing, or be a little less public," Caitlin returned. "What was this compromise? Oral sex?"

"Yes, Ma'am," Toby nodded. "We figured it would take the edge off." The boy's erection hadn't gone down despite his embarrassment, Caitlin noted; it was clearly visible tenting his jeans. Poor boy! Poor Erin, too, apparently -- she'd NEVER erupted in an outburst like THAT before...

"All right," Caitlin sighed. "I'm sorry, but you're going to have to throttle it back for a few minutes. I have a guest -- someone from the office -- and he's a little shy. I'm going to run upstairs and change clothes, and we'll be going; after that, you can do... whatever you like."

"I can leave..." Toby offered.

"NO!!" Erin screeched. "Don't you DARE!" She dashed across the room to clutch him to her.

Caitlin pursed her lips. "That won't be necessary -- Toby, isn't it? You two can even engage in some subdued necking if you want -- I think I want to raise Howard's blood pressure a bit -- just keep it reasonably clean and try not to embarrass him TOO much, okay?"

"Okay!" Erin dragged Toby to the couch by the hand, then sat there looking at the wad of her underclothing that she was clutching as her mother turned away.

Caitlin re-opened the door, waving Howard in and murmuring, "Young love -- they're always in SUCH a hurry!" Howard entered, to see the pair sitting on the couch, apparently tucking something under the seat cushion between them. Caitlin settled Howard in a chair opposite the pair and murmured, "I'll hurry," dashing for the stairs. 'This won't hurt anything, ' she mused. Getting Howard's blood up might make him a bit braver...