His broad shoulders, hinting at his life of manual labor the same way that his huge rough hands did. His hair was normally short, but he’d been gone...for the last two months, and apparently hadn’t found anyone he wanted to cut his hair. That’s how tonight had gotten started. Corbin had been sitting on my porch when my last client left my house. He had been waiting for me in the long absence of seeing him and had invited me over to dinner. A brush of a hand, a quiet kiss of a shoulder. These were. Her tits, he saw, were small but interestingly pointed with dark brown nipples. She hadn’t needed a bra. He understood that boobs like melons were hardly conducive to elegance in a dancer. Her simple knickers were white, which he didn’t mind. They were part of his new fantasy. At his request she kept them on while he took off his clothes. With mock gallantry he picked her up and carried her to the bed. Maybe, he thought, those male dancers had a special technique: she was heavier than he had. More

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