"It'svery healthy for you, Mr Johnson, and that's what we all want, isn'tit?"The cuff for Miles Johnson's neck was eight inches deep, in the samewhite...satin but with a larger frill, at each end. He couldn't see them,but down its front there were three satin covered buttons in pink. Histhroat too, he remembered: it was a source of serious worry to him. Hehad taken to feeling it with his fingertips every evening in front ofthe mirror, because it had become narrower and had changed its shape.His. Later, he got an interesting bulge in his board-shorts when she went inside to the open-air cafe and breasted the bar beside him (literally) and suggested they have a drink together. He was indeed alone, it seemed, a refugee like she was from a very busy work period. Em was in hunting mode that weekend. So was he. She was after cock. He was after pussy. It looked as if it could be a perfect match. They introduced themselves. He was Max and he was in something financial. T hey had a drink. He. More

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