My left hand is covered in his hot white cream and I bring it back to my body, wiping it on a tissue grabbed by my free hand. I feel and hear him pull...up his boxers and trousers, zipping, buttoning and reclasping his belt. He meets my eye and I grin. “I bet your wife won't hear about this.” I watch his own smile broaden, making his eyes sparkle. “Wife? No, Mr. Copeland, Nicky's a guy … and he'll definitely be hearing about this.” He points to the bulge in my own suit. “Do you, uh, want a hand. A tshirt and I am ready to go! I know you went early to work, so I am going to make a nice lunch, preparing to ask you for your help. A few hours later, you come in, and we enjoy a warm, filling lunch together. I have worked during the morning as well, and plan to finish my projects during the afternoon. We chat, and, shyly, towards the end of our conversation, I ask if you will help me shave later. You smile, that sweet smile, the one that makes my stomach clench with want and need. You nod. More

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