Swinging her hips and putting a husky tinge in her voice, she walked back into the room.“I could be interested – tell me more…”“OK, but firs..., tell me your name!”“it’s Maureen. What do I call you?”“You can call me – call me Mr Alcock. Yes, that’ll do for the moment. OK, Maureen, here’s the deal. I really want to fuck you (a smile flitted across her face at that and then was gone), and I’m prepared to pay for the privilege – but only if you can make me come within 20 minutes of me getting my. I couldn't really bring out her enthusiasm for a corporate conference table of a unique design of my own, and I really could not see the interesting aspects of yet another divorce case. That's probably why I missed the first signs of a change. But when I did, it was probably too late.The little frowns on her forehead, the times she was so absentminded that I had to repeat what I was saying. And our bankaccounts that were growing a lot faster than expected. The proverbial shit hit the fan when. More

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