Sheba - that was her real name - looked innocent as a lamb and twice as cuddly. She happened to be a she-wolf in sheep's clothing. A saleswoman, that is - who used her retching femininity to move merchandise.
She had been taught her trade by an expert - the same virile sales executive who had shattered the lamblike innocence once hers, the innocence now worn like a disguise. Maybe it was exactly this virginal aspect of Sheba which encouraged Fred, the man she loved, to brutally ravish her. Why should the sales people have all the fun?
The time came when Sheba tired of delivering the goods. But how could she expect help from the operators making her sell her soul for a commission? Or from Fred, who had forced himself upon her. Maybe it would be better, she figured, just to take what she could get - and like it!
She had been taught her trade by an expert - the same virile sales executive who had shattered the lamblike innocence once hers, the innocence now worn like a disguise. Maybe it was exactly this virginal aspect of Sheba which encouraged Fred, the man she loved, to brutally ravish her. Why should the sales people have all the fun?
The time came when Sheba tired of delivering the goods. But how could she expect help from the operators making her sell her soul for a commission? Or from Fred, who had forced himself upon her. Maybe it would be better, she figured, just to take what she could get - and like it!