Jen became a little giggly.We ate – and drank – whilst listening to Beethoven. When the Pastorale finished, we turned to Delius. It was during 'Walk to the Paradise Garden' I realised Jen was asleep, snuggled against me. My heart turned over as I looked down at her. What should I do? Send her home? Call a taxi? Ask Charlie to take her?"Jen ... Jen, wake up, please." I shook her gently. She stirred."Don't want to. Want to, want to, want to ... stay."Okay... "Jen, you still have to wake up. Have some water, clean your teeth ... that sort of thing." What the hell was I to do? Jen wasn't some ... no-strings fuck-buddy. And ... she was inebriated, to say the least. I left her on the couch and fetched a glass of water."Jen ... drink. Please."Her eyes opened and she peered up at me. "You want me to drink?" Just some water, Jen." Oh ... okay ... Boss..." Her hand rose and waved uncertainly in the general vicinity of the glass. I put it in her hand; suspicious of her ability to hold it and. "She has every right to enjoy your successful climb in public life. My wife is usually at every party, no matter how exclusive." Though she never gets in the way of my fun and games, thought Buchanan."Yes," said the Arab, in an oily voice. "I've heard such wonderful things about her. That she can even sing and play piano." Oh, yes, she does that," Mark said, allowing his pride in her to surface through the lingering resentment and negative feeling he had been harboring and that had seriously afflicted their love life."That young woman is a definite asset to you and your career," Sid added.Mark was forced to agree. He loved her still, he knew that, but still and all too often, memories of her lovely figure, mounted by that evil dog and responding to the rape of her pure body surfaced in his thoughts. He knew in his heart that she had been the victim of the act, but he found it too hard to forgive her reacting sensually to the dog's huge, driving cock. Mark shook himself, swearing he.
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