As I led Graham up the stairs, I asked, "Should I assume Brutus, your Argentine was a male?"

"Yes, he was."

"Then, you would have seen him launch his red rocket."

"Love the imagery." He chuckled and nodded over his shoulder. "But his was tiny compared to that."

"Ah, of course, castrated as a pup – as most are these days. Pre-puberty and not allowed to develop."

Graham nodded. "The kennel said he'd be easier to manage."

"More like they wanted to protect their market."

"Hunh? How so?"

"Wise purebred breeders don't sell intact pups – except for tens of thousands, sometimes a hundred thousand or more."

He nodded as we reached the top of the stairs, and I led him around and started up the next flight. "Large dogs shouldn't be neutered before twelve months – fifteen to be safer."

"Oh! So, how do you handle this."

"We allow the pups to be taken after they're weaned, onto solid food and fully socialised by their mother, usually twelve weeks. The purchasers sign a binding no-breeding contract with a high financial penalty, plus the return of the dog and all pups."

"That would be tough to police."

"No, most of them have the dog fixed as soon as its behaviour becomes a problem – among the signs it has matured. An intact male can smell a bitch in heat many kilometres away, and municipalities have bylaws regulating the keeping of unspayed females."

"Hmmm. More to the kennel business than I had imagined."

"As I see with the investigative business."

We arrived on the second floor, and I took his hand again, leading him into my bedroom and across it to the windows. "Look at my view, Graham."

"Oh, wow! With the park across the street, unobstructed."

"One of the things that attracted me to this place – oh, damn! Milano Coffee blocks our view of your penthouse."

He chuckled, wrapped an arm around my shoulder and pulled me to his side. "So, you can't spy on me from here."

I trembled at his touch, turned in his arm and tilted my head up, licking my lips.

As our mouths merged, we grappled like first-time adolescents, but we soon settled into a deliciously passionate exploration. Then, feeling the warming below, I pulled away and laid my cheek on his chest. "I'll mess my togs if we continue like this."

"Ummm, sorry. Got carried away."

"No, it's me, Graham."

He chuckled. "Let's call it mutual, then. So, where do we go with this?"

All the way. I trembled at the thought. Not a shudder of fear, though. One of curiosity. With his smallness, could I? "Ummm. I can remove my togs."

"But your trauma? I don't want to trigger it again."

"Ever since you mentioned it, my mind has continued flashing to possibilities."

"Hunh? I don't follow."

"Your size. Non-intimidating – possibly non-triggering."

"Oh!"

I grabbed the hem of my top and peeled it up and over my head, and as I pulled my arms from its sleeves, Graham said, "So firm and high."

"Among the benefits of going braless."

"Hunh? How so?"

"Bras allow the supporting muscles and ligaments to weaken, speeding the inevitable sagging."

"So, the lingerie industry dupes women."

"Not really." I shook my shoulders. "Not all are firm like these. Many this size and larger need containment and shaping."

I peeled my yoga pants down and stepped out of them. Then, looking up at him, I chuckled. "You're behind me, Graham. May I remove your necktie?"

"Oh, my! Hypnotised by your exquisite body and your free spirit."

He shuffled out of his suit coat. Then, while I removed his tie and unbuttoned his shirt, he unbuckled his belt, unzipped and allowed his trousers to slide to the floor.

After examining the tenting of his jockeys for a while, I reached out to feel it through the cloth. Not intimidating – yet. Not been this far in ages. Do I risk scaring him away? But he knows, so stopping shouldn't disappoint. Or will it?

"You seem in a trance, Marissa."

I nodded and looked up into his eyes. "Still calm, though. Allow me to do this slowly. Allow me to lead."

"Whatever it takes, Marissa. I've not been this far with a woman in such a long time."

"Same with me and men." I chuckled. "No STD risk."

"Ummm, particularly now with the automatic testing each check-up. What about pregnancy risk?"

"Finished my period two days ago, so I'm safe." Oh, God! Nothing to stop us but me.

Still probing through the cloth, I moved my hand up and pulled the waistband out to examine his penis. Dare I touch it? Silly girl! Never find out if you don't.

I reached in and touched its tip. Soft and giving. Of course, the spout of his foreskin. Moving it about for a while, I gathered the courage to peel it off his head, a glistening purple cherry emerging. Still not intimidating. Fascinating is more like it.

After leaning closer to watch the action of the foreskin sliding on and off the head, I looked up and smiled at Graham, his awed expression sending a shiver through me. "I think it's safe to remove your shorts."

He cupped the sides of my head and guided me up for another kiss. Again, I wetted, but now, without the worry of soiling clothes, I continued. When our lips finally parted, I reached down, grabbed the band of his jockeys and lowered them as he assisted them off.

We stood examining each other for a while, his awed expression and roving eyes wetting me further, his throbbing penis not intimidating. I grabbed his hand, led him to the bed, flipped the duvet off and lay on my back.

Then, seeing him towering above me, I clenched my eyes closed as images of Norman filled my mind, and I began shuddering.