Delilah and I settled onto the sofa that was in the corner of the room. Chase must have been tired of sitting in his chair, because he eased onto his desk and sat there facing us, his legs spread apart like his balls were too big for him to close them. Men had that habit, I’d noticed. “First, that’s not good for your foot to hang like that. And secondly…” Delilah’s expression darkened. “Dude, do you know what that reminds me of?” Her words hung in the air. Chase looked blank for a moment, then blushed and quickly hobbled to his chair. “Sorry, I didn’t even think of that.” “It’s water under the bridge, but you know, some visuals you just can’t get out of your brain. There’s not enough brain bleach in the world. And Erika’s lips planted around your cock is one of those images.” She grimaced. Speechless that she actually went there, I stared at the ceiling…hard. Best to just let the subject die without resuscitating it. Flustered, Chase shuffled through some papers, and I decided to take the reins of the conversation and steer it someplace a bit more relevant.
