She remembered how frightened she was when she first saw Mister Willowbee’s huge thing because she was unusually tiny and tight down there and she t...nded to look for gentlemen with extremely good manners with less likelihood they would shove their business too deep and cause her discomfort. She had discovered that even with Dwight bottoming out inside her, she was able to go past the moment of panic and even reached the heights of feminine orgasm with him not even starting to spurt as yet. It. Most had stuck with him through thick and thin and had developed a shell, they knew Harry was just a perfectionist and just waited for his anger to abate before approaching him. Some knew if they stood up and countered his aggression, after a noisy slagfest if proved right, which some where, they would have Harry’s undying loyalty. Next time he’d side with them, accepting their views. Slowly as they all learned Harry’s temper lessened and he would be amiable to their suggestions. One or two. “You ... gave it to the CIA? After ... AFTER you tried to ‘hear it for yourself’?!”“Oh, don’t worry! I made a copy. I can get it to you, no problem.”“Mr. Carstairs, need I remind you that it is all very well having a bit of fun on the CIA shooting range, but that you are actually here on Her Majesty’s behest?! And NOT the C-I-bloody-A’s!”“Oh come on now, settle down! We’re all friends here, aren’t we? Special relationship and all that. Except they could be bothered to contact me. And they lent. ‘Now. Open your eyes.’ She looked at herself in the mirror. The artist in her was admiring. The woman in her felt her heart beating quickly, she was so . . . exposed. ‘You are incredible.’ ‘I love them, thank you, they are beautiful.’ ‘Do you . . . is it . . . are you wearing La Perla . . . everywhere? You know . . . ‘ She blushed and laughed. ‘Show me, please, pretty please, please, please . . . show me.’ She considered this. Show him? Show him what? Show him how? The very thought would.