"All right then .. but you must not tease me, we must be very .. professional, I think, about this, yes?" Oh yes, definitely. Nothing but professiona...!" I assured her, feeling myself harden at the thought of what I might be treated to! But I was still quite surprised. She had been nervous and hesitant about wearing something sexy around me in the game I described .. and yet here she is, getting ready to model a homemade duct tape mini bikini for me? This was so unlike her, or so I thought. . ”Nick looked up at her and something in his gaze made her shiver. “Are you sure you want to count favors with me like that, Jazz? You could end up owing me quite a bit.”Jazz didn’t answer because Nick’s friends were in the room now. He explained the situation and the precarious nature of the chair, which they lifted straight up. Nick was ready to pounce if the kitten ran. But, the kitten was curled up in a little ball of fluff, its paw and the tip of its tail over its nose. It had fallen. Don was good. When we started, he had me watch part of a movie after reading the same part of a novel that had been turned just the way Road Trip and Crystal Clear were. Then I’d go off and attack a couple of chapters of my book, and then run them by Don. He’d also work on them. I was working and eating in his office from seven in the morning until nine at night. It seems so long ago, but we finally finished yesterday Road Trip. Carl Reed, Scarlett’s producer friend, read the play as it came. It was as if her body took control of her intentions, as soon as the signal sounded. A mental bell ringing, with the promise not of food, but a more sensual, raw sustenance. “Dog fucker,” the voice in the bell taunted. And as much as she might have wanted to pretend it wasn’t true, in her heart she wanted it even more to be true. She could not deny that she craved the feral, rumbling heat the words incited in her belly and cunt. Her cunt said it was true. What her cunt said is what mattered,.