"Hmm, I roughly know," Erwin Simpson answered.
"That's good."
After that, the call was hurriedly ended.
Erwin Simpson sat in the executive chair, closed his eyes, and pondered for a moment.
He sent a message to Kathrine Jaron on his phone.
He asked her to meet at a private, secluded clubhouse.
Half an hour later.
Elegance Clubhouse.
The lights were colorful and ambiguous, dim and hazy.
In stark contrast to the winter sunlight outside during the day.
Erwin Simpson arrived first.
Kathrine was ten minutes late.
The two met in the quietest private room in the back.
He closed the door.
Looking around nervously, Kathrine asked, "What do you want from me?"
"What else could I want?"
Erwin Simpson stood up, grabbed her hair, pulled her towards him, and forcefully pressed her down on the sofa, "Fuck you!"
"Mr. Simpson, I've been yours for a long time. If you want to fuck, just do it whenever,"
