He has command over my body, it’s as if he knows what tune to strike up next with the orchestra. He plays every note so perfectly. My body is simply...a vessel for his symphony. My mouth still parted, his finger still depressing my tongue he takes it slowly and gently, stroking my tongue on the way out and traces my lips with my saliva getting them wet and so very willing to do his bidding. I move to rub his finger on my cheek, he watches, still leaning back looking fiercely at me, with his. I was sitting on an over-stuffed sofa near reception, glancing over the local evening paper, when two men in suits came in and asked for me; the receptionist pointed me out, I stood up, and they came over and introduced themselves. I remembered Dad’s advice and looked them in the eyes as I gave them a firm handshake and smiled. I was pleased to note that they did the same.“I’m Tom Stephens and this is Jim Clark; we’ll be looking after you tomorrow. We were looking at the notes of your interview. More

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