I look up to the left to see him again: the whitish hair is dashingly handsome against his ocean blue clothes. This time his puppy dog face is twisted...into a smile, revealing a slight dimple. How have I never seen that before? This time I notice his forearms. The watch on his right wrist accentuates his strong hand, clutching the wooden mop handle, his muscles visibly flexing to move it back and forth. A tattooed cross peeks out from underneath his bicep-length blue sleeve. How can someone so. Now, at Charlene's wave, she rose and entered Armand's office.The woman that Armand had once identified as Sharon, his ex-wife, was giving Master head, urged on by the hammerlock Master had her right arm in. The Wench knelt beside her chair in his visual field and announced herself, "Master?" Excellent," Armand approved. "Sharon is wearing too much in the way of clothing, for my tastes. Assist her in getting out of them." Sharon let out an emphatic grunt and glared, but Armand merely fine-tuned. More

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