Chapter Four
“Kneel,” pointing to the carpet before where Octavio and I sit side by side. “We have much to discuss, Andrea.”
Octavio and I sip our cool Chardonnay as our nude maid complies.
“Closer,” Andrea shuffling on knees to comply.
With my free hand I tear away the velcro adhering the white cotton garment about Octavio’s waist, then open the folds, fully exposing my bull stud’s impressive maleness. It’s a crass and brazen measure, but as I earlier explained to Octavio, I need to establish the appropriate ambiance. I am gladdened when Octavio objects not, his homophobia cast aside, quickly accepting that my prettified chastised husband is more feminine than masculine.
Then I pause, silently sipping and toying as maid Andrea watches me perform a slow hand job. Early in our marriage
