. formal?" "Not formal... god forbid! It's bad enough that you're calling me sir; contrary to popular opinion, I haven't yet been knighted. My name's ...eter... my friends call me Peter, but you can call me Peter." She grinned. "I'm Kimberly... and unfortunately, I have to call you sir. The boss is pretty strict about maintaining formal relationships with customers." "That does raise an interesting question though, doesn't it, Kimberly... is it Kimberly, or Kim?" "Kimberly." "Kimberly... how are. I’ve seen enough of her by now to know just how keen she is in every conceivable way.Will took the long way round, pulling up in a car park adjoining a public park. It was empty at this time of night. “Not many places left without CCTV,” Will explained. “Bastards ruin everything.” Then he turned around. “Right, love. Out you get. Let’s have a good look at you.”Your wife obligingly got out of the car and went to stand in front of it, where the headlamps lit up her voluptuous frame. Tits hanging. He grins back at her and his eyes lower, taking in her beautiful cleavage and imagining the sensation of his hand reaching over her shoulder to glide down the wonderful curves. She smiles at him and says cheekily “I wasn’t talking about that view, I was talking about the view from the balcony”. “Oh, that,” he comments, very distracted and slightly dreamy. Turning around, leaning back against the railing, she brings up her cup to her full lips, sipping carefully. Peeking at him over the rim. Thanks for the dough. Your slave,”On the way back to the apartment, he ran some errands, then bought a little booze and a few groceries.Nancy was there when he opened the apartment door. The place was tidy and she was on the couch with a magazine, her grease face still on, and the television going. The ashtray in front of her was full of cigarettes. And the room was full of smoke.“Hello, Nancy!” he said. He took his bundle on into the kitchen and put the ham and cheese into.