Not smiling. I sat. She turned to face me.“One more time, Mister Jackson,” she said. “I am not a delicate little flower. I married you, for God�...�s sake. I know you’re not perfect. Neither am I. I know there are probably things in your history that I don’t know about, that might be, shall we say, interesting. But this is me and you and right now, today. I want to KNOW. I didn’t run tonight because I wasn’t going to leave your side. You’re my stupid HUSBAND! I was going to DEFEND you! And then you. Would he be loud? Would he grunt and groan? Or talk? Talk dirty?Would he talk about the hole he’s fucking? How hot and wet and tight it is?I faintly remember the one porn movie I saw, years ago, a tentative – and abortive – foray into that topic that everyone seemed so interested in. The movie clip, the people in it, the music, the lighting, everything seemed so harsh to me back then.Would Matt be harsh?Would he call me a... whore?His good… little… fuckpet?I cross my legs, which makes it worse,. More

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