‘Ellie sent me out to see if you need anything.’ Putting down the script he smiled, ‘Just a little company for five minutes to clear my head. Si... down.’ Lisa sat down, propping her face on her fist, ‘I didn’t know you wore glasses.’ ‘Only to read. How are you finding working for me? Any problems?’ ‘Just you.’ Laughing he sat back, ‘You realise we’ve got just one week to get it together before I leave for Canada?’ ‘I told you, in your dreams.’ Taking off his glasses and leaning forward, his face. Whatever's in that vile concoction, I can tell you it shouldn't come a mile from a woman's privates. A blowtorch would be merciful compared to that shit. My ?morning witching,? he calls it. The bastard.It was thankfully over quickly. For today, at least. On more leisurely mornings (or those where he's nicked me with the razor) he'll sometimes soak a washcloth in the stuff and press it painfully into my crotch, leaving the stinging astringent to fester as he readies himself for work. Or, if in a. More

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