It was like some weird moment from a chick flick – I recalled a scene from the Bourne Identity or some such where he was washing her hair and they e...ded up kissing – but it was better. He was Alistair, and he was real, and it was happening to me. The kiss ended and he pulled away, still supporting my head."All clean, I think. And it's cold – we had better get you dry and warm."He helped me sit, and I quickly wrung the excess water out of my hair and twisted it into a bun to prevent it dripping. .. did you even fucking iron this shirt? And your tie sucks. And you've got brown socks with a black suit? Jesus are you a moron?" Hey babe!" I said, defensively. "I haven't worn a suit since Dad died. I don't... know all this shit."We went to her bedroom where she set up the ironing board, then we went through some of her husband's attire. My hard-on had completely vanished at this point. I was picturing something else happening, not getting chewed out for being a fashion idiot. We were just. ’ John began to pump. With each insertion the speed increased. There was more force, too. I was loving it, happy that I could cope with the size, settling into John’s rhythm, aroused further by Teresa’s encouragement. ‘ Yes, John, fuck her faster. I’m sure she’s all right. It’s what she wanted.’ He was holding on to my hips and that seemed to help him settle into a consistent tempo. We had found an equilibrium and with it the confidence to give ourselves up to a pleasure that grew ever more. Harry took Sierra to her apartment and then returned to work and put out a general email on Duncan’s condition to the directors and his PA put the same message on to the password protected website restricted to employees of the newspaper. He then took a call from Sierra, who told him she was soaking in a bath. ‘We were interrupted, what did daddy say at lunch?’ Harry took a deep breath, and gave it to her straight. ‘Sierra you need to know I’m no longer half in awe of you partly because of.