Chapter 8

Those fingers were perfect there, exactly there, on his body. There wasn’t another place for them, except for holding a golf iron or driver. His member seemed to agree with that thought, beginning to awaken in his trousers. Reggie did his best to make it go down by thinking unpleasant thoughts.

Russell didn’t seem to feel the same: he’d already turned his back to Reggie as he went to sit on the sofa. Clearly, he wasn’t as agitated as Reggie. Understandable.

With difficulty, Reggie could take some steps—his legs seemed to be caught in cement up to the knees—and reach Russell. But, before sitting down, he gave a quick look over at the windows, just to be sure there weren’t other imminent betrayals outside.

“Something interesting over there?”

Russell’s voice reached him, startling him.

Just your woman smooching another man…

“Uh…no, no, I thought I had seen…seen a…”

He was feeling stupid and embarrassed.

“What? A cat, maybe?” The Englishman chuckled, crossing his long legs.