Reuben took in the breakfast stool that doubled as a barber's chair, sniffed the air, and complained that there was no sink to wash Madam's hair. I ex...lained that Madam had just showered and her hair was clean. He unzipped his tool case, sniffed the air again, and took out his clippers, presumably willing to make the best of a difficult situation.I told him how I wanted Cynthia's hair to look, short, but long enough to comb back on the sides, and went back to the study. It was maybe thirty. Smiling broadly, breathing heavily Kimiko shakes her head.'More. Aahh!'Stomach again.'So loud.'There is the sound of rummaging again. He strokes her cheek. Eagerly she presses her lips against his hand. He leans in, and the stink of her own cold sweat is overpowered by expensive aftershave. The metal collar keeps her from reaching him. Their noses touch, then their foreheads. Kimiko whimpers.'Please.'The kiss is long and wet. Greedily she tastes his tongue, he grips the back of her head,. More

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