“Mrs. Akron,” he acknowledged, feeling at once stupid, ill-kempt and uncivilized.

“We can talk in the library.” she said, and turned away from him to lead the way to the room.

He followed, watching her buttocks move sinuously in the tight hip-huggers. She was all motion, smooth, powerful, welcoming. God, he thought, how beautifully she swings that ass. In his mind he kissed and nibbled like a hungry rabbit at those supple mounds of moving muscle, and could almost feel his pecker slowly slipping between them. That was a mistake; one that if allowed to grow to fruition would not go away for a long time. By a supreme effort, he finally made his errant penis subside.

The woman motioned him to the couch and then eased herself into a large leather chair facing him. As she sat, he noticed the way her slacks tugged in between her legs; her delectable pussy was clearly outlined… the whole wonderful vaginal slit was there, hiding just behind the cloth. To kiss that would be heaven! His dreaming penis stirred restlessly again at the thought, for he knew she wasn’t wearing a damned thing under the slacks.

“Well, Mister Shelton… you heard some news?”

He had an instinctive feeling that his information and the photographs were going to hurt her. For just a moment he deliberated whether he should produce the evidence or not, then he mentally shrugged. Hell, that was why she had hired him in the first place. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, and withdrew a thick manila envelope from his coat pocket.

He passed it over and watched her weigh it in her hand. After a moment, her half-frightened eyes looked directly at him, as if seeking reassurance. “Is it bad?”

He swallowed. “I’m afraid so.” Then he added quickly, “You might prefer not to see them… or maybe look at them after I’ve gone.”