“Yeah. There’s built-in storage under the windows, and I keep it in there. We can try it out tomorrow night, if you like.”
My c**k twitched. “Oh, I like, very much.”
He grinned at me over his shoulder, threw the door open, and entered. “C’mon in.”
It was dark inside, and hot; the windows were covered with plantation shutters. Mark went to each one and fastened it back, and soon the late-afternoon sunlight was filtering through.
It was a tidy-sized room, sparsely furnished with a couple of small wooden tables, obviously the handiwork of local craftsmen, and a pair of chairs and a couch, made of the same wood. As he said, there were storage benches beneath both windows, and I assumed the cushions for the chairs and couch were kept there, along with the hammock, when he wasn’t in residenc
