Michael strode back into the kitchen. ‘Let me whip something up quick and I’ll get back to you, Gabe.’ ‘No,’ Abigail blurted. ‘I’ll make...breakfast. You can tend to him.’ Put some clothes on him—she thought. Erica had made herself at home on one of the stools, busy with a small gaming device. When Abigail volunteered to make breakfast, she looked up with a pout, eyes big as saucers. ‘Ooh, maybe I should help too.’ Michael’s brows shot up. ‘Maybe not. Last time you tried to help in the kitchen. " Not a bad idea, but full of problems - not the least of being divorced and chucked out onto the sidewalk. My college degree was in Renaissance Literature, just about the most worthless sheepskin in the world for landing a paying job."I didn't say a lover - I said a replacement." So, what does this... replacement do that Jim doesn't?" I asked."Well, in a nutshell, he straps me to a rack, whips the shit out of me while something is stuck up my ass, then fucks me and leaves me chained for the. More

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