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I want to go to lunch as two good friends. Are you interested?" he said."Yes! Oh yes, Sir! I would love to go to lunch with you!" she said, standing up quickly. She forgot about the chain and almost tripped, but Peter caught her and held onto her."Easy there, Miss Moore!" he said, holding her tightly. Crystal looked up into the smiling face of her rescuer... and suddenly, the torch was lit! "Th-thank you... Sir," she breathed softly. He sat her back down carefully onto her chair."All right then, Miss Moore. I will come by and pick you up at lunchtime," he said. He turned and left and Crystal watched him until he turned the corner of his office.Oh my God! she thought, smiling broadly. She had never realized how handsome her boss, Mr. Campbell was. And now she was going to get to go to lunch with him! And he had said this wasn't a business lunch, but more like a real date!Crystal giggled to herself as she turned back to her work. She looked up at the clock on the wall. It was 9:10. My wife and I left the party in the small hours. We’d had quite a bit to drink and were both merry. Our friends opted to stay the night at the party venue.Once home, we went straight to bed and had sex. While I had no problem getting an erection, the drink prevented me from climaxing, though my wife seemed satisfied. Before we went to sleep, she told me my friend had put his hands on her breasts while they were dancing and when she asked him to remove them he complained that one minute she would let him, the next she wouldn’t. We laughed about this and I dismissed the matter due to my friends’ high spirits.When we awoke in the morning my wife instigated sex again, though I again couldn’t finish. I recall thinking, however, that my wife had been very randy both before and after our sleep.Later that morning we returned to the house where the party had been to collect some glasses we had lent the hosts. Our friends were still there and they, us, and the hosts began drinking some of the.
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Had any man dared speak that way to her father, all would have felt a duel justified. Yet even her supporters would condemn the slightest challenge as ’emotional overreaction’. Though she’d earned her position by right of inheritance and proven her fitness on the battlefield, many still cried out against a woman marshal. The king’s support had only moved that criticism behind closed doors. Even the king had misgivings. His support had come as much in memory of her father as for her own sake. Some of her critics had his ear, and none more Duke Ambrose. ‘See. Isn’t that better,’ said the king. ‘You are right, though. It’s hard enough keeping the army supplied. We can’t afford to lose those mills.’ Rosalyn seethed. Those mills were almost thirty miles from the border. What of the towns and estates that lie closer? Were they any less vulnerable? Better to meet the threat at the border and be done with it. Were she free from the meddling interference of this very council, she could defend.

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