She stepped back, allowing him to enter. He could tell that she already knew, that Donna had already called her. In fact he had counted on it. As the door closed, he turned toward her, his face emotionless, not hard and cold, nor warm and loving. He was so far beyond that now. He started to speak but she pushed past him and strode into the living room. ‘I don’t want to hear it,’ she said, picking up a phone book, then throwing it back down. ‘There’s nothing you can say to make me forgive you for what you did,’ she continued. Paul could see the tears coursing down her face as she strode from one spot to another, picking up item after item only to send them crashing to the floor. ‘I’m not here to try and apologize,’ he said, matter of factly. ‘I’m here to tell you thank you. Thank you for being there for Julie for all those years, and thank you for being there for me.’ ‘You bastard!’ she screamed, ‘Donna called. She told me all about it. How dare you!’ ‘Listen, Karen. I know you’re. “Yes, Mister. I mean…” she sighed and tried not to think about the sound of her reply. “Yes.” He smiled, continuing to stroke his tall, rigid cock while he brought his other hand to his briefs and pulled them out further to reveal full, smoothly shaved balls. “How often?” “Just the once.” He nodded, as if he seemed to understand something. She knew he understood things she didn’t fully comprehend, but since she’d taken up residence in his house, he’d said very little beyond what was necessary. Until now. “Did you do anything other than watch? Taste him? Touch him, at least?” She shook her head. “Were you tempted? Too nervous to act on your instincts?” She shook her head again. “I just…I dunno…I guess it wasn’t the time or place.” “Tell me about it. If you’d like.” She’d never imagined just talking could make her slit ache and flush with syrup, but the lilting feel of calm in his voice was making every part of her body burn. There was so much she wanted to tell him, but she.
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