His hands were slightly callused. Working man's hands. "I remember now," I replied. "I'm sorry. I'm just bad with names at times." It's okay." He just...stood there, looking lost and a little out of place."Um, may I ask why you said I was good?" Oh. That." He gestured to the small sign I'd been hanging above the shop door. "Charlene Delaney: Freelance Writer" it said. "I read your article in the Tribune last Sunday. Very articulate and informative. You're obviously good at what you do." Thank. " He tried to grab my wrist, but I only pulled harder."I'll pull it off." I threatened. His hand moved away and I slacked off on the pressure. My free hand traveled down to his ass, massaging his cheeks possessively. "Now, who's in charge?" I asked, while my finger pressed between his cheeks against his tightly clenched ass to emphasize my point. "Hmmm?" Come on honey, let's go to bed. I don't like this game," he whined.He was getting ornery again. I don't know what possessed me, but I opened. More

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