"Hello, Debbie," he said, managing a small smile."Hi, Ken," she cooed in reply, her gaze caressing his face now. "Is Tony at home?" Why no, he isn't. ... don't know where he is. Were you supposed to meet him here this afternoon?" Not exactly," Debbie said in her husky voice. "I just thought I'd see if he was home, 'cause it's pretty hot out now and I thought we could go swimming in your pool."Ken swallowed into a suddenly dry throat, noticing that she carried a rolled towel under her right arm.. That I'm a "dumb freak'en bimbo". Pathetic I know. Who emails an author who slaves away for weeks at a time writing a story, and the only thing they've got to say is that my fingers are more useful up my ass than on the keyboard?And it has little to do with the content of my stories. They call me dumb because I... have issues... with spelling. SO FUCKING WHAT if I don't use a freak'en spell checker every time I fire off a hot sexy story? You mean to tell me people highlight my words as they. Was there more?Madame turned and approached the bed."That was wonderful Davina; you have a very skilled tongue." Thank you Madame," I answered meekly.She must have noticed my parched croak because she stepped to the side ofthe bed and after dipping two fingers in her glass she put them to mylips, I licked off the liquid....wine, grateful for the liquid. She didthis a couple of time before returning the glass to the built in drinkscabinet. Turning she moved back to the bed a wicked grin on her. "I've been okay. I have been working hard on my routine, and I think I am doing better. See what you think."She stood in the mount position and waited for him to lift her. Greg saw that she had followed his suggestion and was not wearing a bra so instead of grabbing her waist, he gently slid his hands higher, cupping her breasts and gently massaging them briefly, just long enough to let her know that he had not forgotten her.As he stood before her, spotting for her, it was easy to see that she.
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