“Okay, thread your hand through the strap from below, and then spread out your hand and grab your pole.” I snicker, and he glares at me. “What? It’s funny. I’m instructing you to spread your hand and grab your pole. In England, this would be a sexual harassment case waiting to happen.” He shakes his head, but a grin is playing on his lips. “Okay Master, I’m grabbing my pole.” “Please say that again, but make your voice go all husky, like on a Friday afternoon when you’ve been yelling all day.” “Dylan,” he warns, and I hold my hands up.
