He’d see her here or there, parties and premieres, but their interactions were limited and brief, far too brief, for Pierre. At night, alone in his ...ead, she was his. He’d push her down on his bed, as she writhed, resistant beneath him, he’d press himself into her, listening to her sighs and squeals, deeper and deeper into her depths, kissing her neck, her breasts, tongue on her collarbone, licking lower, salty sweat, squirming pressure, he’d grab her wrists, call her a slut, and continue his. "That you work for the Globe as a prop man." I stopped."Art thou a wizard, sir?" I asked. "For I hath not told thee my name or for whom I am employed."The old man smiled. It was a wide, broad smile. "I have been manning this shop for some 250 years and you are the first person to ever recognize that I was a wizard." He placed his hand in mine. "Thank you." he said and reached behind the counter. He brought up a small box. "This is a much finer corset than the one you wanted." He handed it to. More

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