His hand drifts up and cups my breast, his thumb flicking over my rock hard nipple. I gasp. "Are you cold?" he asks. "Not anymore," I say. I reach up ...nder his shirt and run my hands across his abs. I love a hard athletic body. My hands wander up to his chest, so muscular, so firm. My mouth is watering and my pussy is on fire. His other hand reaches up to my face, stroking it gently. I arch my back into him to feel his hand on my breast better. He motions for me to climb over the boards. I do. Apparently she was an ex-wife who was on reasonably good terms with him; at least that’s what I gathered from gossiping with Kathryn and Alessandra. “Godfrey!” Marguerite exclaimed. “What have you done with your hair?” “Well?” Godfrey said as he ran his fingers through his close–cropped hair. “What do you think? “I think it makes you look like a fascist,” Marguerite said disapprovingly. “Cool!” Godfrey exclaimed as he admired himself in the fabric merchant’s mirror. “That’s the look I was going. More

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