James
Buzz and Eliot step forward, each taking her by an arm, leading her to a seat. Her head swings uncertainly as they do so....
.... Worried that it's not me and Michael?
.... We're not far away....
.... but she sits, accepting the cognac being pressed into her hand.
Michael is looking around the group. “Ten!" he hisses at me. “Ten of them? What the f**k are you expecting of her?"
.... Calm him down....
.... His instinct is always to over-protect....
“I'm expecting that she is going to rise to the challenge, probably enjoy herself because, as we have both learned, she loves to f**k, and in the process, she will earn herself a great deal of money."
“How many women can handle ten?" Michael's voice is low, but demanding, insistent. He's not happy with me. “Even seasoned players wo
