I try that on with ablack top and it looks good. The buckles on it are for show but I like theway it looks and feels.WednesdayI'm sitting at work mess...ng with my phone when I discover it'ssomehow lost the settings for voicemail. They might have rung meyesterday and I wouldn't have got the message.I panic for a second. I tell myself that I know they didn't ring yesterday.I'd have seen a missed call indicator if they had. I calm myself down withthe thought.It takes me about ten minutes to reset. ‘Sorry?’ he asked. ‘What were you thinking about?’ ‘Just about you’ he responded softly, looking down to avoid her gaze. She was instantly aware of being fobbed off. ‘Exactly what about me?’ she demanded. ‘Oh just how good you look.’ She noticed a slight reddening of his cheeks, and her curiosity was aroused. She knew he found it difficult to express his feelings, but this was ridiculous. ‘Come on, you’re just evading the issue, as usual. Can’t you tell me for once what you really think and. I think she was just a desperately hurt and lonely woman who found some sort of closeness and comfort in the boys who came to her to satisfy their lust. I cannot ever remember her having a regular boyfriend although she sometimes brought guys to the discos held in the city centre, but always a different one each date. That evening she didn’t have a bloke in tow so we sat in the bar and chatted until it was dark outside. Sharon seemed sad at first that night, a bit depressed, and I began to. . there. She lifts herself up, hoping.His hand caresses her bottom, but his fingertips do not venture between her thighs. It is not the moment for that, and she knows it. It is only afterwards, after her punishment, that his fingers will venture between her legs and give her the relief she so desperately craves. He is irritated with this small rebellion on her part. She does this every week, even though she knows that the pain must come before the pleasure.His hand stops, resting on the middle.