***
“Lunch?”
There is no salutation, but I know the voice.
“I usually eat lightly at my desk.”
“You’ll join me, half past noon. Third and fifty-second. A cute little bistro. Sidewalk service. It’s a nice day.”
Ann Cromwell hangs up, not awaiting a reply, knowing that my curiosity will not allow me to refrain. The location is close by and I happen to have a light schedule for the day. Thus I instruct my assistant to postpone my one o’clock appointment for an hour, sit back and do some thinking.
It’s been over three months since Roger’s disappearance. Strangely, I miss him. The Sybian offers great physical satiation, as always. Governing Douglas somewhat appeases my non-vanilla side. But coaching Roger through the tormenting throes of thorough chastity, his vaunted p***s not to achieve
