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He keeps the gun against your head as he makes his way around the chair. 


"Just couldn't keep your whore nose out of my business could you?"  He asks gruffly, picking up the garbage bag.  "I told you to let it go."

He clicks his tongue and shakes his head like a mother scolding a child. 


"Now I need you to be cooperative or I'm going to have to blow that pretty face all across this apartment."  He pulls a handful of pills from his coat pocket and stuffs them into your mouth. "Swallow!"  He orders forcefully.   You choke and sputter, spitting a couple of the pills into your lap.  He puts his knee on the chair between your legs and presses the barrel painfully against the center of your forehead, pushing you hard against the back of the chair.  "I said swallow bitch!"  He growls.  You reluctantly swallow the remaining pills and he eases up the pressure on your head.  


"Now we wait."  He says in a flippant tone.   He stares down at you.  Your lip is quivering in fear and the tears are welling up in your eyes.   

"I guess we may as well have a little fun while we are waiting."  He takes his free hand and undoes his belt buckle.  You shake your head, begging him not to torment you any further.  


"TAFT!"   the booming voice comes from across the room, near the door.  

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