“So, sir is ready to indulge his carnal desires once more, his little package looks up to it.” He tried hard to dispel her remark as one of pure h...mour, but felt the truthful cut of it; the feeling of slight humiliation stimulating him somehow. She put him in mind of a family governess who had taken control of him, despite his being beyond the age necessary for the discipline that he believed she had been installed to apply on his younger siblings. Her authority was recognised above all by his. At fifty-seven, she looked better than most thirty year olds Dylan had dated. His mother took care of herself and was proud of the fact. ‘Hi Dill Pickle.’ His mother said, smiling and kissing him on the cheek. Dylan flinched when his mother used his childhood nickname, but he smiled in spite of himself. ‘Hello mother. I’ve brought breakfast.’ He sat the bag on the table and took off his coat. He pulled two coffee mugs from the cupboard and filled them with coffee – his black, his mother’s with. More

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