She nodded shortly and the two of them turned, hand in hand, stepping lightly across the floor to leave me hanging alone again, sweating and leaking, ...y head spinning.I don’t know how many minutes later they returned, following meekly behind a woman who could only have been their mother. I’d never met Mrs. Brooke before and she wasn’t anything like I imagined. She was probably in her late 40s, with shockingly blonde hair, almost white, wavy and cut to just above her shoulders. Her eyes were an. He smiles. “Let’s go.” Somehow, we go unnoticed as we head to the garage. “So what’s up Chrissy? You’re making me nervous.” “Don’t be. I’m the nervous one.” “What? Why?” “I wanted to take you out…on a date.” Whew. That wasn’t so hard. He smiles, showing a lot of beautiful teeth. “Oh really?” “Yeah. You’ve been looking pretty damn good lately. Let me take you to dinner.” Wow, I feel like a dude. I think my balls just dropped. “Shit. You’re making me feel like a lady Chrissy. I’m flattered, but I. Soon enough, they would be feeding them all a Sunday "brunch"—such a lovely word—and engrossed in making them all ready for church. Then there would be the vigilance, the looks, the pinches to keep them all attentive to Jesus and Father Navarone instead of sleeping or fidgeting. Once home, there would be the gathering of the Sunday clothing to launder, and beds to make, and finally dinner to prepare while her husbands monopolized the televideo with their sports.Madonna joined her at the table. I had intended to dress before I spoke to him, but the choice was taken out of my hands, as I was called over, stark naked. My heels echoed on the wooden floor. Leon stood. He smiled. “Eve,” he said, “I want you to do some work for me. Mike has agreed, and the contract signed.”“What the fuck has Mike agreed to?” I thought. I soon found out.Leon took my hand, and gently turned me around. He stroked my bum, again. “What do you think,” he asked, not of me, but of the woman, and the young guy who.
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