But with each passing day, he was more aware of her presence. She was about as tall as he was, very fair in complexion -a contrast to his wheatish one... with a perfect hourglass figure. He used to look forward to seeing her every morning, jog past him gracefully.Every step that she took was measured and perfect which would make her muscles ripple over her body fitting clothes. Her hair tied in a single pony bounce and the shapely bosom juggle in just the right way to make his loins stir. Many a. If she was going to sit down, then it had to be her move.Tommy DiChenza was a handsome guy by anyone's standards. Tanned almost black, his hair thick and just graying at the temples, a retired millionaire yachtsman to look at him fast, expensively dressed even in the most casual attire. Fifty-eight and like a rock, the fucker still hit the boxing gym three mornings a week, though he only worked the bags now; a golf game that made me want to throw away my clubs.He was shuffling the deck of. More

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