Closing the door to her bedroom Gwen stepped over to her dresser, she pulled the top drawer and selected a pair of powder blue panties and a matching ...ra. After she put on her underwear pulled open another drawer and stared thoughtfully at the t-shirts available before she grinned and picked out a blue on blue shirt with a stylized cart face on the front, somehow it seemed appropriate now that she knew she was carrying another one of Ben's babies. Finally she chose a pair of white caprea pants. But she needed to give me a chance. Just a fucking chance.‘Sure,’ she said, slightly warmer than before. Another shot of annoyance, less sharp, sprung through me, but mixed in was an arousing elation. She returned to the profiles, dismissing me wordlessly. Instead of taking the cue, I stared at her kneeled body with hunger, resting my gaze on her hair. That fucking hair.I must have stood there for an obviously long time, because she looked over and said, ‘Was there something else. The more she watched, the more she wanted to get fucked. She was held back bound by her family’s conservative upbringing. “Sex only after marriage.” That was the Mantra hammered into her head.She had a boyfriend in college. No matter how much she wanted, she would not do anything more than kiss him. She would cover it all up under the guise that she was not interested in sex or physical intimacy. That she cared more about emotional bonding.In reality, she wanted to be fucked hard, even if she. If a boy was caught in the girl’s toilets at school Alec would find out about it. He employed people to do the gumshoe jobs, he also had financial experts who could analyse your accounts and find every little fiddle you’d tried to get away with. He didn’t come cheap but he was the best.‘Hello Alec, Ronald Shaftoe, I’ve got a job for you.’‘That’s usually why you call me. Who do you want checked out?’‘His name is Robert McIntyre; he is sales director for Barnsdale Insurance. I’ll email you.