And he sometimes felt that way as well. As the ancient elevator tediously made its way from 320 stories under the earth’s surface Marcos was leaning...in the back corner, eyes closed, hair wet, thinking about what he needed, ‘Mmmmm, some fucking roast would be fantastic about right now. With baby carrots and thinly sliced celery…Yea.’ He said aloud. ‘I swear, if that woman isn’t home when I show up there will be hell to pay.’ But he knew that would never happen. She was under his spell. His. “You may be right, Toller, but I need to see for myself of what we are talking. I would feel bad if they were true pieces of art. Show me the room, then.”“Madam, I must object! Those artefacts are not fit for a lady to see.”“That would be for me to decide, Toller. Unless you want me to tell his Lordship that you were my husband’s accomplice in the collection of these items?”The butler squirmed. He had been listening into conversations often enough to know that Lord Brougham would not deny his. More

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