He got out of bed. Seeing his own image in the mirror, he stopped to appraise himself. Salt-and-pepper hair only slightly mussed from sleep. The beard...could stand a trim. He'd worked hard over the last year to slim down and tone up, and he was pretty happy with the results. He didn't have a six-pack, but he was no longer carrying around the beer belly he'd had in his late forties.He thought of Mark in the shower, and his cock stirred. He made his way into the bathroom and had a tantalizing view. He drove expensive cars, and he had personal staff members to satisfy his every personal need. He had a good life, even if he had to deal with his cold hearted bitch of a wife to keep it. And to keep his real self buried beneath a facade of a whiny hen pecked husband which had become more difficult through their years together.And tomorrow, he would be going to the task force. He would be a member of all those people who's only job would be to find him. The irony of it was something he wished. More

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