The desk was now occupied by the blonde woman, Dara Devon. She wasn’t packing, but her computer was sleeping nonetheless. Her monitor scrolled white words against a black background:
LOREM IPSUM LOREM IPSUM LOREM IPSUM LOREM IPSUM LOREM IPSUM LOREM IPSUM.
"Lorem ipsum?" Sage wondered aloud.
"It's only 2,000 year old text taken from Cicero's The Extremes of Good and Evil. A subject that's always facinated me, My Dear," Dara said. "What extremes would people go to, to get what they want? What extremes would you go to Sage?"
Sage grabbed hold of the woman's desk to steady herself, and in the time it would take for lightning to strike and retreat, the woman looked up at her then down again. In that split second, Sage saw the senseless white words reflected in the black center of the woman’s eyes. LOREM IPSUM LOREM IPSUM.
"So you’re feeling better now?" Dara said suddenly, stealing Sage away from her uncertain thoughts.
"Yes." Sage answered, startled.
"That’s good," Dara said. "For most people that would be good."
"What do you mean ‘for most people?’" Sage asked.
Dara didn’t say a word. She pointed to her screen saver.
"Oh, God!" Sage exclaimed. "You’re not planning on taunting me
with that LOREM IPSUM crap again, are you?
"Look," Sage said, summoning up all her courage in an effort to set Dara straight once and for all, "I do not need pain to intensify sexual pleasure. I do not go around purposely slamming my fingers in car doors. I do not, nor did I ever, love pain itself. I did not seek after it. I did not want to have it, simply because it was pain.... So if you’re planning to give it to someone again, please consider giving it to someone else this time."