My hand runs through your hair as you settle and the years literally drain from your face. “You’re such a good boy for mummy aren’t you. My swee... sweet angel. Mummy loves you so much”“I love you too mummy. I am are good boy aren’t I?” Even your voice is different, younger and softer, like the little boy you are now“Yes my love you are a good boy. And good boys get special treats don’t they?” With that I begin to undo the buttons on my blouse and push it back out of the way. Your hand. She passed a big black limousine and groaned a bit to herself. Not that they couldn't use a client who had that kind of money. She kept the books. She knew their purpose was to help those who needed it, but couldn't someone rich get into trouble occasionally? They weren't hurting. Angel had amazingly laid aside some money from his time at Wolfram and Hart. She knew why. It had been for her, even though he never claimed that. She knew he had not thought he would survive his assault on the Black. More

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