The older African man from Zambia with whom Mara and I had met in Nairobi nearly nine months earlier.I ran my hands, palms down, over the curving expa...se of my wife's huge, pregnant belly, in slow, gentle circles, and as I did, I could feel the occasional thump of Omar's baby against the inside of my wife's womb; and it's very aliveness, it's vigor, it's rambunctious energy, it's health...filled me with a difficult to explain sensation of excitement and anticipation. This also made my cock. A feast, you call it, a juicy peach ripe for nomming. I just call it wet and wanting you.I stand in the doorway, looking across the duvet at your sleeping features. You are so dear to me, it makes me ache to hold you when I am not with you, and want to cling to you when I am. In my head, at least, even if I am needing time alone.And most of all, I love to be intimate with you. There are so many ways, but right now, I want to be intimately sucking you.I swear, you know when I am thinking these. " I've had enough. Come on." One more. I like dancing."Jessie liked dancing, but she clearly liked attention too. What's worse for Don, he could tell Jessie was drunk. Her eyes were glazed. Her smile was stupid rather than honest and wholesome. But something deep inside her had shifted.Jessie gestured to for five minutes then continued to Dance. It wasn't outright rejection but it wasn't the reaction Don had hoped for.But Don didn't dance, and sat on a bar stool. He felt tired, a little. "No. He's a pervert, not a mobster. But he's sure in bed with 'em, and that's why he'd be the first to go. So you never saw this, right?" She slipped the DVD into an inside pocket of her shoulder bag."Saw what?" I responded obediently.She nodded. "Don' say anything to anyone about this, and tell your sources the same thing. If word got out these pinche cabrones" — I knew that translated roughly into fucking bastards — "would leave a pile of dead bodies — an' one of them might be yours — before.