How was he so different than a born American father seeing to the welfare of his family? He wasn't, Ron decided. Though the idea of having a husband s...ill caused his -- her-- stomach to churn in protest, the image of the man in her mind, along with the warm feelings it engendered, was beginning to make the thought palatable. Ron, as Roxanna, was even beginning to look forward to embracing her husband, or simply being there to help him as much as she could. Which brought something else to mind;. “You watched me at the Bistro, yes?” “Yes,” I admitted, a slight blush betraying my embarrassment of how I used the image of her that very evening and for the evenings to follow. “And at the Louvre, that was you as well?” “Yes.” “And you dreamed of me, perhaps?” “Yes. Many times.”“Good. Take off your pants. I want to see how I affect you.” Slowly, I unbuttoned my trousers, carefully unzipping them, my erection straining against my black silk boxers, holding my breath, and then slowly letting it. The small chamber he was in, which roughly met his dimensions, was actually a coffin shaped compartment of a fridge, and that fridge was located inside a freaking morgue!A sixty something old man and a thirty something woman where in the room the fridge was at, currently performing an autopsy on a young female corpse.Zax was at loss. The duo of forensic doctor and assistant were only first realm cultivators. The old man was in the Mist Master level and the young woman apparently just broke. He would charge the guests one hundred twenty five dollars an hour for my services. Any tips were mine. He would take a twenty five percent cut in exchange for a room there. Since most guests paid with cards, he would keep a running balance for me and settle in cash at the end of each week. My hours were ten o'clock a.m. till twelve noon and one o'clock p.m. till four o'clock p.m. He said I would need to be available week ends also, if I was smart. I already didn't like the guy, and that.