"How you doing there mister Turner?" said the man who'd come up behind me. And, yes, I was using my real name; no reason not to. "Gil, Mister Misguez..." I said. "You startled me." He laughed. "Sorry about that, Bruce. But, really, how are you doing?" "Good. No complaints," I said. "Mister Philips has been more than patient." He nodded, and handed me a card, an invitation. "Company party at my house, next Saturday. Chance for our employees, and their significant others to socialize, have a. She shivered as the hem of the sheet brushed across her nipples, her eyes moving rapidly behind her eyelids as she dreamed. He waited, watching, hearing her slight moan and seeing the shift of her legs that parted with a dancer's grace. He couldn't help but wonder at her dreams. Were they of him? Of them? Did she miss him as much as he did her?The soft material of the sheet shifted over her hips, baring the curly pelt that covered the mound of her sex. With her legs spread and the moon to light. More

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