She nodded. She couldn’t speak, but she pulled one of those reporter’s notebooks out of her handbag and put it on the table. She wrote on it and s...owed it to me. ‘Harry, want to talk about Bronwyn?’ ‘Yes, please, Gwen,’ I replied. She wrote again: ‘Can we move to the snug? I want to be more private.’ ‘Of course,’ I said. The snug is a small alcove off the public bar, originally fully partitioned to head height. Years ago it had been used for people who didn’t want to be seen in the public bar. She had tied back her copper curls to keep them out of the way, and along with those big blue eyes of hers, it gave her that little school girl look that always made him hard for her.He reached out suddenly and tweaked at her nipples. "That's better," he mumbled with satisfaction, "if you're going to show them off Debbie then the least you can do is make sure that they are nice and hard for me." Yes Mr. Groves." Debbie whispered respectfully.Mr. Groves gave an evil little snigger, "into the. More

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