That what I love about art, there is always more to do. Still drying my hands I walk over to Eliot's mess of papers of the table. Usually he writes in...his study, but now I see that he is editing, massive amounts of text annotated with a red biro. I try and read in between his scribbles but I can't make head or tail of anything this far through a plot, so I abandon the task. I hang the hand towel on the Aga rail and leave the clean flagstone kitchen just in time to see Eliot going up the stairs. "She held her arms open to him, and Tom felt the beginnings of anger stirring inside him at what he thought was a belated maternal concern on Rhoda's part. Then he saw that her legs were opening to him, also, and he swallowed hard as he saw her hang her knees over the low arms of the chair. It stretched her twat into a ripe melon of compelling beauty.His cock was suddenly erect and throbbing, and Rhoda was ready for him to charge her like a young bull and stuff the rigid prick into her pulsing. More

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