Sorrel interrupted anyway, ‘What should I wear?’ Fletcher looked up, ‘What do you mean? What should you wear? Wear whatever you want.’ ‘I me...nt. What if the Vasquels’s know about Florence and the clothing she bought for me?’ Fletcher put the paper down, ‘Oh shit. Go get Mary to help you.’ Sorrel responded coyly. Giving Fletcher a sheepish smile, ‘You won’t help?’ Fletcher slapped the paper down on the table, ‘Come on. Let’s go pick something out.’ Sorrel smiled cheerily, ‘OK.’ Together the two. She didn't look comfortable next to him as he repetitively and roughly massaged himself. She looked as if she wanted nothing less than to help him, but as if duty bound she offered a hand. She was a bit drunk. He, however, declined saying, 'Just leave it with me for a sec. You could take off your clothes?' Her eyes widened and she laughed. He was very serious. He hadn't even touched her or done anything in regards to loosening her mood, but now he wanted her to strip. Her amusement soon turned. More

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