Brody frowned; something wasn't right. He got a nervous feeling in his stomach. Had something happened to their parents? To one of Rick's kids? "Is ev...erything okay, Rick?" "Well, yes and no. I mean, I'm fine and so are Amy and the kids, but . . . oh, hell. Amy and I are separating. I just wanted you to hear it from me." "Oh." Brody was silent for a minute. "I'm sorry." "Yeah, me too." "So what happened?" "It's not all of a sudden, if that’s what you mean," Rick said. "I don't know. It's one of. He would open them up to see how they tied or zipped or buttoned.He looked at the wall of shoes to the right, 99% of them some type of high heel. Open toe, pumps, slingbacks, sandals, wedges, in all colors and patterns but all sharing a heel no less than three and a half or four inches high.All of this gave him fuel as he would have his pants open stroking himself as he went through her intimate apparel. But the thing he always saved for last, the shoe box he discovered strategically buried in. My hand edges under her skirt. My hand slowly continues upward until I feel the tops of her stockings. I linger there, drawing circles with my fingers over the lace. The husband can follow my movements by watching his wife's skirt, the fabric moving in concert with my hand. He's so excited that he's practically panting, and he has to momentarily rise off his stool to adjust himself.My hand continues to softly caress his wife's legs under her skirt. I can tell she's uncomfortable with what I'm. That moment Pramila decided to not let go this opportunity at all. “Anything, Sir, just say it,” Pramila replied. Amit continued.“There is a reason why we are paying this much for a job of a receptionist. Here you will have extra responsibilities to satisfy the other employees, bosses and the client/customers. Since you are a married woman, we will say it directly. If you don’t feel comfortable, you can leave at any moment.”Pramila nodded in agreement and so Amit spoke further. “Okay. Can you.