. At least, she amended, not for a long, long time... Gently she ran the tips of her fingernails down Jock's lean muscular flank and across his sinewy...buttocks, marveling at how hard they were, inhaling his good clean male scent. She should have guessed that morning that those pimples were just make-up... a man with a superbly conditioned body like Jock's wouldn't have pimples like that... but she had been so groggy and confused. Even so, pimples and all, he had opened a gate to a whole unknown. Nearly.As she alighted from the bottom step of Dr Stephen Mortlock's town houseshe tripped on her heels. Luckily, or so she thought, she landed in thearms of a rather handsome gentleman dressed in a tweed suit and a LondonFog overcoat."Well what do he have here then?" he asseverated."Thank you sir," Michele said, keen to get into her limousine and gohome.The man helped Michele to her feet but he didn't relinquish his grip."So who are you and where are you going?" he asked, his tone. More

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