Neither blinked, and neither gave in. Gretchen squeezed his tender fruit menacingly. Finally, with gritted teeth, he slowly lowered his fist. She ease... her grip but did not let go as he put his hand on her chest and pushed down hard, as if to demonstrate that he was not letting her up. She growled at the pain as her left tit was cruelly mashed. "Don't you ever raise a fist to me again. Me or any other woman," she warned. "You hit me first!" he yelled in her face. "I slapped your face. The lady led him into an elegant office and asked him to sit down on the couch facing the main desk. On the desk stood a line of beautiful shot-glasses each half full with some dried wax-like substance in them. What was even stranger, was that each of the shot-glasses was labeled in a copperplate script with the names of some of the top industrialists that Benjamin recognized. Not seeing anyone besides the two of them in the office, Benjamin croaked in the most authoritative tone that he could. More

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