My other hand. My other arm.Now, one hand there, just where my arm and shoulder meet, your otherhand reaches to the other side of me. You press. Firme..., a littlefirmer than the pressing of your hands along my arms.Heels of hands press lightly, sink easily to my sides. And pressingagain, each hand cupped, each hand containing the whole curve of ribs,back to chest, I feel you stroking downwards, downwards towards mywaist. The gentle pressure of your hands increasing just the slightestbit as they. “How does fifty grand annual sound to you?” he said. “Money? A job? Fuck you,” I said. “Stacey was worth way more than that to me. Tell her that. Maybe it’ll make her feel bad about dumping me for a player like you,” I said. “Man you are something for damn sure,” he said. “I didn’t ask you to come here and offer me money as some kind of consolation prize. I never want to see your ugly face again. Do I make myself clear?” I said. “Yeah, I guess,” he said. “Fuck you and fuck off, asshole.. More

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