"Good morning"His voice, high pitched and quiet, seemed to fit his appearance. His essence, appeared to be, of a man that had been dominated his entir... life, either by his wife or his boss. She could picture him in a stressful job and always shouted down to, so maybe this was his way of being in charge."Do you have anything specific in mind?" she enquires."I want you on your knees, bent down, with your head buried underneath the pillow"As his voice had changed, becoming a little deeper and. Micalo * * * The quill was replaced into the inkpot, and the letter left to dry as he stood from his post and came up towards the broad window. The velvet of the tied fabric leaned in towards each other, trying desperately to shield their master from the cold, bleak winter months outside, though in these parts the worst that could chill him were the rains. The rains and that eternal poison of a lover. When the wind through the willows had bored his purposefully blank conscience, he ambled back. More

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