[He keeps his eyes focused on her face, arching just a slightest bit toward her when the tips of the glove-fingers touch him.] Almost. [He glove he's holding is making its way down, between her breasts and down the midline of her flat stomach. He does spare an appreciative glance downward, but only a glance, and then a smile of distinct approval.] The good women always know how to work with what they have.