Of all the things Belle might have
expected to happen that day, she
could not possibly have conceived of
the entirely insane situation in
which she now found herself. XXX The door behind him creaked open
and Harold stood to the side,
revealing his masterpiece to Belle. “Can I help?” he continued. She liked the
fact that he treated her with the
polite respect one ought to treat a
practical stranger, rather than
behaving as though seeing her
diddle her goodies gave him
profound insight into the inner
workings of her mind. Now,
with all the “intensity” she had
heard so much about pulsing fiercely
against her clitoris and surging
through her petite body, Belle could
not deny that there was certainly
something “magic” about it. The feeling of simply being—
raw, vulnerable, unadorned—
unnerved her, but had given her
some sense of self-worth, especially
when she thought of Harold. It took no more
