Sit.’ he orders. I swallow a few times, wondering at the dryness of my mouth, and obey him. I agreed to this, after all. I tremble as if he’ll hit... me when he strokes down my arm, from my shoulder to my wrist, with the back of his hand. He looks up at me (he had been staring at my shaking hands) and smiles softly. ‘I suppose you wish for me to tell you some tired cliché about how I won’t bite.’ he says. This time the full force of his British accent hits me, and I smile more naturally. ‘Well,’ I. I bore him within my womb for nine months, went through the pain of his birth, we raised him through the scraped knees and bloody noses, only for him to die just as he becomes a man. It is wrong. He should be here with us, he should have a wife and we should have grandchildren, but since God had to call him home when he was 19, we will never have those things with him. Nor, will we ever have him again. I am sorry, Erik."The man turned and looked at her confused."What? Why are you sorry?"A tear. “Don’t worry,” he says, “I’ll have a word with her. But if you truly have nothing to hide you’ll cooperate fully with the investigation.”“Of course, Detective,” she says with a smile. “I wouldn’t want anything to get slowed down because of the need to get search warrants.”“Let’s hope it stays that way,” he says, adding a roughness to his tone.“If that is all, Detective,” she says, putting an end to the questioning, “I do have a business to run and the media is going to have a field day with. You pulled away and looked at me with a hungry look in your eyes, and I knew just what you wanted. Watching you, I slowly unsnapped the hook that held my top on, and let my breasts fall free to you. You leaned down almost instantly, and took one of my already hard nipples into your mouth. I leaned my head back, and closed my eyes, as your other hand caressed my right breast, your mouth still eagerly devouring the left. I slid my hand into your hair, pushing you softly into my breast, as my.