"Nineteen," Sabrina smoothy corrected him before switching to Russian. "And of no concern to you. Now. Or ever. When it comes to Andresj'? He is a subject that you and I, we will speak of it no more," she replied coldly. "As for the reason for the mini mental...moment you're having right now?" she queried, offering up the most saccharine of smiles. "First of all, Jerry, darling, 'he' has a name. Thomas Hardy, Jr. Second, he's not a boy."

      She paused, her eyes suddenly alight with a wicked glee that soon was reflected in her formerly forced smile. Oh, she was gonna absolutely love what came next! The only good thing about Jerry pushing her buttons was her getting to push his back. Hell, Sabrina practically had a PhD in pissing Jerry off.

      "And last but by no means least, I assure you, there is nothing little about him."

      In silence, Sabrina watched the play of emotions once again in motion on Jerry's face. "It's hard, isn't it?" She cast a sly glance below Jerry's waist, noting the slow yet steady tenting of his slacks. "The struggle, I mean." The look of innocence she wore was truly Oscar-worthy.

      There was a perverse thrill, a truly decadent rush she derived from taunting Jerry. 'Thrill.' 'Rush.' Words that defined both the highs and lows of their oftentimes tempestuous relationship. Towards the end of their union, the latter were far more plentiful than the former. It was during those times when Sabrina found it most difficult to discern which of them enjoyed torturing the other more. Such was not the case on this night. Tonight, the pleasure was all hers. Resolving to put her 'degree' to its fullest use, Sabrina pressed on.