"Messenger, madam," came the reply."Who is it?" she said without touching the heavy door."I have a message from your son."A familiar voice, she though.... Which son? Her pulse quickened as she pulled the door open and raised her flickering lamp. "Why, Mr. Bouve. Do come in. This is a surprise."The dapper man removed his hat and bowed slightly as he crossed the threshold. His empty sleeve was pinned to his shoulder, and he held a riding crop under the stump of his missing arm."You have a message. The hallway rug muffled the click-clack of her boots. He closed the door and followed closely; watching her juicy morsel of an ass work the dress, work him.The floor lamp reduced the size of the living room to a lighted spot, and, without any prompting, she headed straight for it. He stood behind her, lifted her bag off her shoulder and dropped it behind him, not caring where. Taylor turned to look at him, but Slim remained just outside the light, his face obscured with the willfulness of a. More

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