As he stretched over my body, his package near my face, I could smell his masculine scent. Trying not to be obvious yet still look up for a closer pee..., I glanced up to his pants and could swear his cock was straining to say hello. My conscious mind knew he wasn’t sporting a boner in my face, but unconsciously I could picture his manhood waving back and forth like a serpent dancing in front of me. Raoul now moved behind me and held my hips as he moved me into position. At that moment there was. It made no reference to how I wasdressed or the role I was playing. It didn't mention Beckett callingme 'an old bitch'. Mind you, I hadn't told them that, so it washardly surprising. The picture the statement painted was of Beckettbreaking in to Hadleigh Hall and confronting Lord and Lady Marsham asthey were preparing to retire, not of the Countess cuddling with hermaid on the sofa. I signed it 'Hadleigh' in the boldest, mostmasculine version of my handwriting that I could manage, just. More

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