The luxurious cashmere on the back of my hands is rough compared to the skin beneath them. I feel her warmth, her softness, and I raise my hands highe.... I feel the small mounds of her breasts delicately held in silk cups."Pinch my nipples. Bite them."The contrast of senses inflames me -- the softness of sight and touch, the coarseness of sound. My partner, my lover. My consort, my whore.She peels her sweater from her body and pulls my head to her breasts. She runs her fingers over my smooth,. . we rarely see her. She even has her own private elevator so she doesn't sully her pretty self with us street people!" Well that worked fine for me - the further I was from the tailored-suit executives, the better I liked it anyway! I had never had ambitions to be a corporate kiss-ass or "yes man." Just give me a working class job with working class people I don't have to put on airs around and I'm a happy guy. After I had filled out the necessary paperwork required of every new person in the. More

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