He could smell Cheryl: flowers, or strawberries? Arie couldn’t be sure. The scent was mild and sweet. Cheryl stood near the table, dimming the light..., rubbing oil into her hands. Arie could feel her heat on him. Enshrouded in his dark, lightless world, he imagined her warmth as subtle waves of orange that brushed his neck, shoulders, and cheeks. Arie couldn’t help but imagine Cheryl’s tight, round ass inches from his head, his face just as close to her pubis. As Cheryl worked her hands over. Did you say something nasty to your wife this morning? Did your children keep you up all night? I thought that was Rosalynn’s job. You wouldn’t get out of bed, in the middle of the night, to help her with the children. Am I correct, you poor, poor man?’ ‘That’s none of your business, Delicious.’ ‘I believe I just hit a nerve, didn’t I? You stayed in bed, while your tired, overworked wife tended to your six progeny. How inconsiderate of you. What else did you and Rosalynn talk about this. More

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