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“Nice place pretty lady, I see your wedding band but I’ve never seen Mr. Pretty lady about, what’s the deal?” His reference to her husband annoyed Shirley and for the first time she felt an anger rise within her. “Stop right there, you!” she said as sternly as she could manage, pointing her finger at him. “Why the hell do you keep calling me that, even though you know my name? I’d also rather you didn’t talk about my husband, ever…and…. Just what do you want from me?” the last part of her tirade wasn’t planned; it just slipped out of her mouth, causing her instant embarrassment and regret. Jamal looked seriously at her as if he was phased by her tirade, and then he walked over to her until he was a couple of feet from her. “First of all, I’m sorry about your husband, I was way outta line,” he said letting his voice dip as though out of some deep remorse. “Second of all, I call you that because you’re the prettiest woman in the whole neighborhood, and that is a proven fact,” he. Mason whacks in and out of me, unhurriedly and in his own leisure and style. Spills of sweat start to stream down my forehead and face. Not only this. I can as well feel sweat slide its way down my back and even my legs. When I orgasm all of sudden without a slice of a warning, I see Mason who is right here before my eyes become hazy and fuzzy-like. It is all plain straightforward that my eyes are fooling me. But then I really am not that bothered or molested. The sky is gradually blackening. Night is fast moving towards us. I stand here before the glass-shaped wall, goggling outside when in fact I am so lost and disappeared into secret thoughts of my own. When I wheel around, I find that Mason has completed up dressing. His father is toasting his fifty-eight birthday tonight at some hotel here in town, and we have a duty to make merry with him close to his cheery and loving side. We can go now, Emma. Are you okay anyway? Mason asks me in a composed and impassive tone of voice. I.
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