"I just wanted to give you a thrill..." Jake," Béla whimpered. "I hurt. Inside. I didn't grow back together right. My bones are messed up. You ... are going to have to fix ... what you did to me. You can start with my left knee."She pointed down at the unusual looking knob on the side of her knee."See that?" she asked, looking up at him. "That's my frigging kneecap! And the bone behind it is out of position. See how straight my leg isn't?" Wait a minute!" Jake protested. "I'm no surgeon! What do you expect me to do?" Fix! It!" Béla growled at him. "When you're finished with that, there's lots more!" So much for the wet dream from heaven," Jake mumbled and he knelt down in front of her.It took him a half-hour to carve her knee open so that he could actually take her kneecap and slide it around to where it was supposed to be. Her fibula, that small bone in her lower left leg (there's also one in the right leg, but it was okay), had healed out of position and was too short to reach her. But, unlike Marty’s, it was packed.There were people everywhere. Men, most of them, but peering into the crowd, I could see the occasional woman as well. Some of them were dancers, some of them were old high school friends, but most of them were strangers.And they were all looking at me.Stage fright has never really been a factor in my life - I’ve never really had any interest in performing, but on the few occasions I’ve had to stand in front of a crowd, I’ve always been too busy looking out for something suspicious to be nervous.But standing in front of all those strangers, I was suddenly shy. They were all looking so ... expectant. They were here to see me, and I couldn’t for the life of me work out why.And then ... I looked down.I was wearing a tight black top, barely enough to cover my boobs yet somehow managing to push them up. It had a strap on either side, connecting to the collar I suddenly realized I was wearing. My panties were equally revealing - a tiny scrap of fabric,.
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