"I'm thirty seven years old you know."Then he turned the tables on me. He said something that threw me for a loop."Are you a cougar?" he asked.I was s...unned, almost speechless. "Why do you ask?" I replied."Just curious," he said.I needed to regain control of the situation. His comment had momentarily made me lose my focus, so I decided to turn the tables on him."Do you want to find out?" I said, as I gently rubbed his leg."Huh?" he replied, stunned at my question.At this point , I really didn't. "Let me guess, Frank," I said as consolingly as I could. "This was what, your sixth or seventh date?" Seventh." I bet she brought up the 'C' word." Frank just looked puzzled. "Commitment, you dope!" I almost shrieked."Well, uh, yeah, I suppose..." Frank Fontana, the man who was utterly fearless when jumping from an airplane, walking into a hostage situation, or dodging bullets on a battlefield, somehow ran in terror whenever the question of a long-term relationship with a woman presented. The job doesn’t pay too well but I’m not in it for the money. I’m in it for the power. Pure and simple. I take a lot of pleasure in taking away the freedom of the men and women who come before me in a court of law. I’ve earned a reputation as one of the toughest prosecutors in the state of Massachusetts. Why? Simply by going after the sacred cows. The untouchables. The unmentionables. That’s how I rose to power. I have recently sent to prison Andrea Yvan, a woman who killed her husband Franklin. ”Connasse, you will make Robert a little happier – under my watchful eye, of course, and in chains,” she said.“Oui, Maitresse Fabienne!” my mother crawled over to her husband under the table and unbuttoned his pants with a sense of urgency.“This is highly irregular,” Robert protested, but it was more of a whimper.“Shut up, you fool and enjoy it,” Fabienne stroked his hair. She instructed my mother to lick the tip of his cock and not suck the entire shaft. “A whore such as this would find.