Hannah dialed Harry Zachary’s number, placing the phone to her ear, waiting for him to pick up.
At this mont, in the Hargrave Family mansion, Henry Hargrave was slumped in his wheelchair, head tilted towards the television, with bright liquid forming a string from his gaping mouth, dribbling intermittently onto his clothes, producing muffled moans, yet nobody ca to his aid.
In the master bedroom upstairs, loud chanical sounds ca from the bathroom. In front of the sink, a man and a woman stood there, the woman clutching the marble countertop, the face in the mirror looking sowhat nauseous.
Brows knitted tightly, eyes shut, mouth exaggeratedly open, a sultry wave escaping from her throat.
..........
The phone in the pocket of the pants thrown on the bedroom sofa rang, its sound drowned by exaggerated noises, the faint glow filtering through the thin fabric protesting against the dirty act in the bathroom.
Unwilling to give up after nobody answered despite the busy tone, Hannah Hargrave dialed again.
Hand on her hip, she gritted her teeth and cursed, "That damn guy, is he at a nightclub with so loose woman?"
It took nearly a year of dalliance with Harry Zachary for Hannah Hargrave to realize how intense this man’s sexual desire was, sotis passionately engaging for hours, and still accompanying her shopping and dining afterwards.
In the Hargrave Family villa, the bathroom had just quieted down, a man and a woman walked out, the woman wrapped in a bathrobe, while the man boldly walked out in his bare form.
Walking over to the sofa, he turned around and casually leaned back, grabbed his pants, and fished a cigarette pack from the pocket, Josephine Hawthorne also plopped down next to Harry Zachary, resting her head on his shoulder, still slightly breathless.
As Harry Zachary just lit a cigarette, the phone in his pocket rang again, he fumbled for it from his pants’ pocket.
"Who’s calling?" Josephine lazily asked, as she took the cigarette from Harry Zachary’s fingers, brought it to her lips for a slow drag, then exhaled leisurely, leaning against Harry Zachary’s shoulder, enjoying it as if it were a forbidden substance.
Glancing at the incoming call on the screen, Harry Zachary’s lips curled into a sly smile, "Your daughter."
"Hannah?" Josephine propped herself up to look, puzzled, "It’s after work hours, what would she call you for?"
The curve of Harry Zachary’s lips deepened aningfully, raising an eyebrow, "We’ll know if I answer it, won’t we?"
Harry Zachary, without hiding from Josephine, answered the call, the mont the phone reached his ear, Hannah Hargrave’s displeased questioning ca through.
"Where the hell did you go off to with so tart? How can you not answer after so many calls!"
Harry Zachary moved the phone a bit away, frowned and dug at his ear before returning it to his ear, responding good-naturedly, "Ms. President, I was handling sothing private earlier and didn’t hear, do you need sothing? I’ll co over right away."
"Bullshit!" Hannah’s voice ca back, with Nicholas Croft absent, she as the mistress could act as she desired without holding back, shouting with hands on hips, "Co over now, imdiately!"
After the call ended, Harry Zachary looked innocently at Josephine Hawthorne, "Madam, you heard her, your daughter wants there imdiately."
"What’s the rush, considering the nurous events you’ve accompanied Hannah to these past days..." Josephine grumbled resentfully.
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