“No, Sir – nothing else ... that I’m allowed to talk about, yet.”“Good enough for me, get to work!” he said, now smirking.“Yes Sir, Mr. ...rmstrong – getting to work.”The moment I sat down, a couple walked in.“Hello, my name is Stuart Armstrong, how can I help you folks today?”The couple was a little older than John and Joy.“We’re the Brumbaughs; I’m Henry; this is my wife Lois,” the gentleman, said extending his hand. I got up to shake it and waited for them both to sit, before I did. “We’re. He had a scar that went from under his left eye to the corner of his mouth. I walked him to my dressing table and showed him what had been suggested for me. He picked them up, examining each in turn. Then he asked me to hold them as if I were going to use them. I fumbled around with each as he watched, not saying a word. He corrected my grip showing me how to hold each one. His hands were strong and rough against my soft skin. It was a different feeling from Christine's touch.When I put them. More

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