He let go of my hair and looked at me for some time catching his breath. I just looked down, sobbing, panting."Sweetheart, I'm sorry. I'm really sorry... I'm going out before I do something I'll regret even more," and then, he stormed out. Even though I tried, I couldn't say anything. I just stood there shaking, with my fingers still clawing at the edge of the sink. I heard him bashing the door closed, then I heard him starting his car and driving off.I took a deep breath, and I tried to. “So how’s the week been?” he inquired, yelling through the screen door. “From your email on Monday, it sounded like your little adventure with the Mrs. paid off real nice for you.”My mind immediately raced back to my memorable morning session with Elisa in which we played out a VERY light version of a rape fantasy ... If you could even call it that ... More like a “stranger danger” fantasy.“Yeah, it sure did!” I assured him, walking out and handing him an open beer while grabbing my own rocker. A man, loud, drunk, red faced and wide eyed slammed his fist down, splashing the coffee onto my hands, and soaking my fingers with the long manicured French nails."What?" I stammered, pulling back in consternation, all too aware of what might happen next."Filthy fucking Faggot!" he spitted into my face, leaning close and smelling of beer and whiskey. "What the fuck is a piece of shit like you doing in this place?"He was leaning down closer to me, fist raised, when suddenly he screeched and. “Oh, that can’t be” She protested. “Maybe not, but I just want you to know, as long we have an open line of communication like we have in the past, we can work through this” I reassured her. We let the subject drop right there for now.I needed to go to a golf meetup today. (More business stuff, sigh, it’s a rough life, but someone’s gotta do it. I mused to myself) I came back home in the early afternoon and Freda and Anthony were busy in the upstairs office again. Once again I slipped into my.