Nowadays he took his time and savoured her. Bradley would probably do the same.He popped in to see him mid-afternoon. It was just a brief visit. “Ho... did the shopping go?” he asked him.“It went well.”Bradley must have thought that Alan was about to tell him what he had bought for her and held up his hand. “It’s okay Alan, don’t tell me. You’ll only spoil it for me.”Alan just nodded as Bradley looked at his watch. “Shall we say six-thirty then at the hotel?”He nodded again.“Its room 49,” Bradley. "I'm not going to be your Santa bimbo," she had insisted.With pressure and Martin throwing a very juvenile hissy fit for a week,his wife had finally relented and performed the "Slut Santa" part hewanted her to do, as she would call it later. She had felt so humiliatedby doing it. She was tearing up when he pulled the beard around her faceand tightened it.Martin still felt that was different. She was a woman, wearing women'ssexy lingerie for her husband. She shouldn't have felt anything but. More

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