Becky knelt against my shins, and without making eye contact, began to swipe the warm cloth around ‘Mr. Handsome.’ ‘You don’t want to feel st...cky the rest of the day, do you?’ Um, I guess not. Aloud, I said nothing. But Mr. Handsome soon stood proud as a peacock, and shouted, ‘Look at me!’ ‘Sacré bleu! I am so bad, Monsieur! I just make you more and more uncomfortable,’ said Maid Becky, looking up with believably sad eyes, while her washcloth encased hand surrounded Mr. Handsome and slowly. " Don't let it go to your head—either one." At that, she burst into a fit of giggling, and the discussion kind of faded away, unresolved.A few days later I felt like another workout, so I headed to the basement and hung up the heavy dummy once more. The bullwhip once again beckoned me, and I smiled as I thought about how it was rapidly becoming my workout tool of choice. I was beginning to think that I should get one made for me, so that I would always have one for the future.After about an. More

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