I heard the front door open. My heart skipped a beat, literally. I felt my body flood with adrenaline. In accordance to what I'd told him I needed,...I turned over onto my elbows and knees on the bed, my arse jutting upwards.Footsteps on the stairs. Not slow and menacing, not fast; just ordinary footsteps coming up the stairs that no man had come up in the seven years I'd lived in the house. I sensed him enter the bedroom. He didn't speak because I'd asked him not to. I heard him unzip his. His chest covered in a thick silver down of hair that all but obscures the smallness of his nipples wobbling atop his moobs. Below which his paunch, definitely more whisky barrel than tight six pack, hangs slightly at his belt line until disappearing into the thick, untended undergrowth of his pubic hair which all but obscures the unimpressive collection of soft dangling objects collected between his thighs. Certainly, no blackbird was going to get fat feasting on that wriggling little worm.He. More

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