‘Don’t be annoying me. Do you think because I’m a woman that I should feel nothing, want nothing, know nothing?’ But I dip my nose to his neck...for a second, the better to breathe his stale-porter, lemon-soap smell. Span new to me.Jim squints and smiles. I kneel on the ground before him, my face before his tender maneen, glance up at him; Jim pushes the roundy glasses up his nose, the better to see my mouth close over it. The taste is of salt and heat, the feeling thick and a****l. I suck, but. According to Brewt he was 47 today, and that seemed about right, but he was not repulsive or anything. (A fact which was in some measure reassuring, but at the same time strangely disappointing. Don't ask me to explain that.) He looked up at me with no change of expression as I closed the door behind me."Hello," I said, in as normal a tone as I could manage. "I'm pamela." He nodded slowly. "I figured," he said. His eyes lingered on my face, then took in my body, without being too obtrusive. More

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