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Wife turns call girl. Hubby finds out, befriends her black pimp and plays a game with both

I knew the female's voice. I was absolutely certain. But somehow I could not believe what my ears told me; all she had said was 'Here is four hundred'. That was enough to tell me who spoke the words. What was my wife doing here? She was supposed to be at a hen party tonight and this was not a hen party. This was the Grand Hotel where most of the conventions took place.

The man's voice I was not familiar with, it was new to me. I had never heard it before.  He spoke to her in a low, pleasant voice, telling her to go back to work and turn another trick. Did this mean that he was her pimp?

The clicking of heels told me that she was leaving and I ventured a peek through the bushes that circled the porch. I could just get a glimpse of a shapely ass wiggling in a blue mini skirt. She was returning to the convention hall. The male voice I had heard belonged to a tall, wide shouldered man who was slowly making his way to the bar.

I was stunned. I just stood rooted to my spot for a few minutes. But then I decided to try and find a place from where I could observe the convention hall and not be seen easily. The bar was definitely the best spot for my purpose.

Luck was with me that night. There was a free stool next to the stranger whose voice I had heard and it was perfect. From my vantage point I was able to see most of the convention hall. And as I scanned the bustling hall I spied a couple standing at the elevators, a well dressed gentleman and a petite, black haired girl in a blue mini skirt. His left hand reached out to press an elevator button while his right hand was busy caressing the girl's bottom. I strained to see more but the elevator door opened and the couple walked in.

As I eased myself onto the stool I accidentally brushed against the stranger's arm, causing him to spill a few drops of his drink. I apologized, but he waved me off with a 'warm grin and a laughing 'don't mention, I might spill a drop of yours'. And with this we were no strangers any longer.

His name was George he told me, and I introduced myself as Karl, which is my middle name. I certainly did not want to give out my real name until I knew where all this was leading to.

We exchanged the usual pleasantries to see if there was interest enough to continue talking to each other. He seemed to be intrigued by my accent and asked me where I came from originally. Sweden, I told him.

He shifted the conversation and asked if I was looking for some 'action'. If so there was just the right girl here he knew and he would love to introduce me to her. She is from Germany, he informed me.

"She is one hell of a girl. Almost petite, beautiful, shiny black hair, and eyes that can burn a hole in you if you let her. But not cheap," he laughed.

"That sounds great," I answered. "I have another fifteen minutes left before I have to run to be in time for an important meeting with a client."

The meeting was the truth, the time was not. I wanted to be gone when my wife returned from her meeting. And fifteen minutes sounded safe enough.

"That's too bad", he informed me as he handed me his business card. "She is with a customer right now and you will be gone before she comes back down."

He then told me a little nit about Jessica. That she was the top girl working for him. That she was a real lady. That she was endowed with a phantastic body and face, but with a warm and pleasant personality. She had some kind of aura that made you love her the moment you meet her. There was more praise of Jessica but I had to cut the description of her short if I wanted to be gone by the time she returned.

I put my tip next to my empty glass and George and I shook hands. His parting words "Hope to meet you again," as he pressed his calling card into my hand.

The meeting with my client went well and it was late when I arrived home. Sitting in my favorite arm chair in our living room I thought about the evening's discovery at the Grand Hotel. Was my wife blackmailed? Was she on a whim just playing out a fantasy of hers? Was she acting on an 'I dare you' challenge? Did she lose a bet at one of her Saturday hen parties? I was utterly perplexed.

How could what I had heard tonight be true? Liolani and I were deeply in love with each other. Among our friends we were called 'The Lovebirds', 'The honeymooners', and similar names. I decided that the best way to discover the truth was through George.

I was awake in bed when Liolani came home about 2 AM. I expected to see some eye make-op, but there was no trace of it, she must have cleaned her face somewhere. She also had changed from the blue mini skirt in which I had seen her to the slinky black dress she had worn when she had left for her 'hen party'. Coming out of her shower she was surprised and delighted to find me awake.

My wife and I had met in Hawaii where I had been sent to supervise the installation of a new system. It was love on first sight. I proposed and six months later we were husband and wife. I took her back with to Germany as soon as the papers had made it through the proper channels. Her blood truly was a mixture, a mixture of Chinese, some Hawaiian, some Portuguese, and some Dutch. Her dark eyes had a slight almond shape, a hint of the Oriental, in short, she was an exotic beauty turning heads wherever we went.

She also was always ready for sex, but even more so after her twice monthly 'hen parties'. Tonight she walked to the foot of the bed and just stood there smiling at me. Then she slowly raised her arms above her head. It did wonders for her tits; they were a perfect 34 without a bit of sag, slightly conical. Her raised arms made them stand up pointing at me, calling me. But I resisted for now.

I noticed with delight that her aureoles were much darker than usual and that her nipples looked hard and enlarged. There was no question, she was turned on. Her eyes almost smoldered as she looked at the tent that had formed just two feet in front of her. I expected her any moment to pounce on it like a tigress.

Instead she licked her lips, slowly lowered her arms, drew back the covers and drank in the sight of my upright penis. I knew she was going to worship it in her own unique way when she parted my legs and started crawling up toward her prey.

Her teasing tongue started at the base and then slowly wiggled up to the top. She knew the most sensitive spot and played a fortissimo there before opening her lips and swallowing my shaft as far as she could. I knew I was going to be treated to her special.

Her special was a wondrous mixture of deep throat and shallow nips at the top, constantly changing her tempo, her suction, her angle of attack, and the pressure of her lips. Combined with the antics of her tongue her performance always became a truly triumphant symphony. Sometimes they resembled a Wagnerian overture, at other times a Light Cavalry overture, or even a Strauss Waltz. But they were always a new surprise.

Tonight I was going to be treated to another of her creative performances I sensed. She played her instrument until she felt the crescendo of the finale approaching. She withdrew her lips at the right moment and grasping my penis with her right hand, directed my jism onto her face. She then nonchalantly used her fingers to smear it all over her face. It did not seem to matter to her that some even had landed in her hair.

I was utterly amazed at her wantonness. She knew what effect it was having on me, smiled innocently and whispered: "I wanted to do that for some time and just once behave like a whore and get a cream pie from you. You didn't mind, I hope."

After she had cleaned herself and wiped me dry she started on getting me hard again for her main course. It was a memorable night. She wanted to be fucked doggie style, and then she wanted to fuck herself on top, facing me, so that I could play with her sensitive tits. She was wild that night. She always was vocal but tonight her volume almost doubled. It was a good thing she had taken the edge off of me, I could not have lasted through her performance. I counted at least three heavy climaxes, plus a swarm of little ones.  

I am a patient man and had no trouble biding my time. I waited two weeks before I called George and invited him for a drink at my favorite bar. The ladies present ogled him, some furtively, some openly. Even I could feel the magnetism he exuded. It was powerful, the promise of sex, a mixture of both tenderness and of stern demands.

This time I could study him at leisure and I liked what I saw. I knew instinctively that I had found a true friend. And the future proved me right.

He told me about growing up in a black ghetto as a mixed child that did not belong to either black or white. An outcast among his black neighbors, an unaccepted person among the whites at school. He reminded me of Gen. Powell. His face was only slightly tinged with some black features, and his skin color was just a shade off a Caucasian. A white skin that was a little darker than usual, maybe tanned by too much sun.

I had to assume that he would tell Jessica about the fellow from Europe he had met. So I changed my date of arrival in the US by several years. And I told him that I sometimes missed my home town, Stokholm.

As we talked, the subject eventually and predictably moved to his 'girl'Jessica. She was married to a wonderful husband whom she adored and who loved her with all his heart. George obviously admired Jessica and cared for her. And from several remarks he made it became clear that she cared for him. No, he stated firmly, it was not love but attraction of a different and indefinable kind.

We both had enjoyed each others company and we decided to get together every two to three weeks. What started out as a fishing trip for information about my wife had turned into a nice friendship with her pimp. I began to wonder how he would react when he found out that Jessica was actually my wife Liolani.

At our next meeting I asked him outright how he recruited his girls. All three were married he had already told me, - married girls don't tell, he had added. As far as recruiting goes he was willing to share with me how Jessica had joined his crew. His announcement dumped several buckets of adrenaline into my blood and I almost started shaking with anticipation. This was what I wanted to know more than anything, - how did all this start.

"I was driving home from a luncheon with friends," recounted George, "when I saw a young lady opening the hood of her car, which was obviously disabled. I stopped to see if I could help. But I am not a mechanic and was as helpless as she. When I offered to give her a ride home, she gratefully accepted. She asked me to stop at a little park on Windsor Ave, one block from her home. As she thanked me for the ride, I gave her my business card and told her that I could probably help her if she ever needed some money.

I did not expect to ever hear from her but a week later she called me to arrange a meeting. Her car was repaired and if I would give her my address she would see me in one hour. She arrived on time, looking absolutely stunning. Much later I found out that she always looked the perfect lady, dressed elegantly, whenever she left the house, even if she only went shopping. Jessica is a proud lady, and rightfully so.

We made small talk for a while. I told her where I grew up; she told me that she and her husband came to the US in 1952. She said she was 36 and then proved it when I absolutely refused to believe her. Honestly, she looked like 26 and her vivaciousness also made her appear much less than 36.

After two glasses of wine I showed her the backyard with the pool I had just filled the week before. Then I took her through the house. We stopped in my bedroom and sat on the edge of my bed. I started to explain the duties and the income if she wanted to join me, but I never dreamed that she would eventually become one of my girls.

The longer we talked the more fidgety she became, crossing and uncrossing her legs over and over. I also noticed that her breathing was getting a bit labored; and when I put my arm around her she practically melted into me. Just thinking about our next hour or two makes my breathing quicken. It was not a plain fuck; this lady turned fucking into an art form.

She explained how she and her husband viewed prostitution. That a call girl was dispensing happiness and should be compensated like everyone else, such as masseuses, or bartenders, etc. That she and her husband felt as Robert Heinlein, who wrote in one of his books that 'there are more honest prostitutes than honest lawyers'.

But she turned down my invitation. We had one more glass of wine and she was gone, leaving behind the memory of a goodbye kiss that could have melted Gibraltar.

She phoned me again a week later to ask if she could come and visit. We again made small talk, and then she dropped a bomb shell. She was willing to join if I would agree to a number of rules she had drawn up. How could I refuse? I went over some of my rules and she agreed to them. When I told her that a prostitute mist always make herself available to her pimp she agreed by saying 'absolutely'. That was about five months ago and she has bloomed into the very top call girl, probably of the entire State. Now you know how Jessica came to work for me.

I promised George that I would call him when I could get another afternoon off so we could meet again for a drink.

A month later I finally could get together with George again at my favorite little bar. We bitched a bit about the problems we had, I talked of mine and he grumbled about his. We told some jokes, discussed and cussed our favorite football team, and generally had a good time.

"One more problem," he suddenly burst out. "And it's a big one. You see, I have really taken to Jessica. Not real love, like getting married or so, I can't really explain it. Not long ago we met some friends at a grocery store and I proudly introduced her as my girl friend. Later I apologized to her and guess what, she said. 'I loved it, I like being your girl friend,' she had told me.

But that's not the problem, Karl. I have won an all-expense paid tour for two to Germany for this fall, about six weeks from now. I so much would love to take Jessica with me, but how do you tell a devoted husband like hers. Just not possible. She would love to go, but she is a girl that absolutely cannot lie even if her life depended on it. So a lie like going with a girl friend is out.

Now she is considering asking him outright. That will bring up questions like who is George etc. And since she will not lie…. well you figure yourself. You can see the mess this could create. We just don't know. You are the only person I told this to because I trust that it will not go further."

I agreed with him and promised him to let him know if I could think of a solution. We shook hands and I left him sitting alone in his booth with his drink. Suddenly I remembered a story about Alexander the Great cutting the intricate knot of King Gordius with one sword stroke. Aha, I said to myself, that is what we need, a swift sword strike.

A week later I had to run home to get some papers I had worked on the night before and then had forgotten to take them with me this morning. Liolami was not home but I did not write her a note, which I usually do. I was in a hurry to get back to the office. I was just getting ready to leave when the phone started ringing, but I decided to let the call go to the recorder. I recognized George's voice at once and stopped to listen. He left a cryptic message. 'Tomorrow 2:30  Toro twelve, mini." It took me two minutes to understand that my wife had an assignment at 2:30 tomorrow at the El Toro Motel, room 12, wearing a mini skirt.

That afternoon I bought a black mini skirt, which I gave her after dinner. I had for some time asked her to wear one at home, together with a pair of heels. That would display her beautiful long legs I had reasoned. Humor me for once and wear a miniskirt tomorrow night I pleaded with her and she promised she would do that.

The next day was her assignment and I had to see this event. At 2:10 I was in place in a car I had borrowed from a co-worker. I had my surveillance spot chosen with great care. Liolani-Jessica rolled in at 2:25, parked her car, went to room 12 and just walked in. She wore a blue mini skirt, a white tank top and heels. She looked somewhat slutty, so completely out of character for her. Her customer probably had made that request, and the customer is always right. The door to room twelve was unlocked when Jessica arrived and I found out later that George had a long tem contract for that room.

Her customer arrived not long after. Then, at 3:oo George arrived but stayed in his car.

I had seen enough and went back to work undetected. It was time to cut the Gordian knot, and tonight would be the time I decided. And I was not getting her off the hook without some teasing.

When I came home Liolani greeted me with her usual enthusiasm and a kiss hotter than a green Habanera chili. She was indeed wearing the black mini I had given her. She looked so sexy that I had a tough time hiding the boner that started developing in my pants.

I thanked her for wearing the mini, telling her how sexy she looked. "No wonder you are so much in demand," I teased her. She gave me a quizzical look and said: "what do you mean by that?"

"Well, you are in demand, aren't you," I answered. "Wherever you go and whatever you are told to do, you do it with perfection. Your cookies are the best and you are famous for your egg rolls. Whatever you do, you do it to please, isn't that right, sweetheart?"

This brought me another quizzical sidewise glance.

I continued with "hope you had a wonderful fulfilling day, honey. Come to think of it, I like that word; it implies being filled full with pleasure. Housewives at least have the opportunity to follow their whim while we poor guys have to work to bring home the bacon. But I for my part I don't mind."

I noticed some discomfort in her voice when she uttered a short "I have to wash my hands. Be right back."

When she came back I took her in my arms and hugged her. I stepped back and admired her again and asked her to turn around slowly. She had regained her composure but she deserved one more discomfort or worse.

So I dropped the bomb. "Love, I will long remember tonight, you are just so appetizing. I can hardly wait to eat you. But you really did not have to change, you could have kept your blue skirt on, it looks even better on you than the black I bought you."

Her pupils dilated and I grabbed her and almost dragged her to the couch. There was no resistance. I put her in my lap, hugged her and told her that everything was OK. Then I kissed her and slowly she started to respond.

Soon she was composed again and in control of herself. "How long have you known, how much do you know, how did you find out?" she wanted to know.

I kissed her again and told her about the night at the Grand Hotel. That brought a muffled, "oh my god, then you know George."

I nodded and comforted her by stroking her hair and hugging her more strongly. "No problem here," I assured her. "George and I have become very good friends. But he doesn't know yet that I am your husband and that fact should be good for a little fun with him.

In the meantime there should not be any change in our life. Let everything be as it was before today. Don't make any changes. I will tell you shortly why I say this.

I am sure you know the definition of prostitution: trading sexual favors for something of value, be it money, or fame, or advancement etc. It should be recognized as legal barter. Many wives use sex for concessions from their husbands.

The problem of today's society is that sex and love are considered the same; there is lots of love without sex and lots of sex without love. Furthermore, I believe that a woman should not be considered property of the male. She should have a life of her own and pursue any avenue of her liking without the husband getting in the way. Apply all this to your own situation and you can see my attitude regarding you working as a prostitute. I admire you for taking a step towards liberation regardless of Mrs. Grundy's opinion.

Now to your problem of a three week vacation with George. You and I will be together for a lifetime, you will have George for a limited time only. I want to see you happy because that makes me happy and since I know that you would love to go to Germany with your boy friend I suggest you do so. Enjoy Germany and enjoy each other."

Liolani did not utter a sound; she just looked at me with so much love in her eyes that it almost brought tears to mine. I moved her off my lap so I could straighten and then picked her up. I carried her in my arms, her arms tight around my neck, to the bedroom, where we reaffirmed our love with an abandon we never had experienced before.  

We must have fallen asleep exhausted because the bed covers were still in a heap on the floor beside the bed. I tiptoed into the kitchen to start our morning coffee and set the table for breakfast when a lithe warm body molded itself to mine and a rain of hot wet kisses showered my back, then my front.

Liolani's lips quickly found the object of her worship and wrapped themselves around the part of me she loved so much. She held it captive between her lips to savor the feeling of power she had over me. She now had taken complete control over a part of me, and it felt good. After she had finished her personal low calorie breakfast she let me go so we could take a shower together.

I decided to take the day off and phoned the office to tell them I wouldn't come in today. Then Liolani called George and after some small talk told him that it was time he took his girl friend out again for a nice intimate dinner. He obviously was in a good mood because he playfully apologized for having been so inattentive that his girl friend had to remind him of his duty. He called Jessica back after a while and told her that he made reservations for Friday evening at seven at the exclusive Robin's Nest. I immediately also called the Robin's Nest and made a reservation for one for Friday at 6:30. The trap had been set.

Friday evening I was seated at a table in clear view of the door waiting for Jessica and George. My double vodka martini on the rocks, complete with three olives, kept me entertained while I waited. Liolani is a stickler about being punctual and I hoped Jessica was too. I was not disappointed, they arrived on time.

I had seated myself facing away from the door. I heard the maitre d' tell them that a beautiful couple like they deserved a special table while he steered them to the spot I had asked him to place that couple. My ten dollars paid off. They seated themselves and less than 30 seconds later George saw me.

He came over to my table immediately to inform me, not ask me, he stressed, that I was to join him for dinner. At his table he introduced me to his girl friend Jessica, telling her that he had tried for four months to have his dear friend Karl meet Jessica. I made some sincere compliment to Jessica; - she looked absolutely stunning in her new evening gown. There was a palpable aura of happiness abut her. I was so proud of my wife.

After the waiter had brought our first round of drinks Jessica turned to George and announced that it was time to celebrate. George looked at her, his face a huge question mark.

She did not elaborate; she instead tuned to me and asked me how much George had opened up to me about what was going on in his personal life. Did he tell me that she was a married woman?

Jessica was enjoying herself, dragging out the suspense. But at last she couldn't hold back the news any longer and blurted out: "We are going to Europe, I talked to my husband and he said it was a wonderful idea, and that I should enjoy the trip and we should enjoy each other."

George was stunned. Then he reached out to take her hand and hold it for a long time. No one spoke, it was a silence of happiness and I participated. He finally spoke, but it was more to himself than to her. He wondered if he ever would have a chance to meet her husband. Then he said NO, I don't think I could meet him, I would be too self conscious.

"But tell me," he asked Jessica "Did he really say 'enjoy each other'? That is the most altruistic gesture I can think of. I wonder what moved him to say that."

"Just ask him, he will tell you. Just open your mouth and say "what moved you to say 'enjoy each other'?"

"Oh no, my dear girl, I couldn't do that."

"Sure you can. Just turn your head and ask him "What led you to say 'enjoy each other'?"

He turned to me, then back to my wife, then back to me again. Finally stammered: "Karl, are you rascal really Jessica's husband?"

I nodded "Let's celebrate."

After a short moment George came back to reality and started laughing with a roar. "Let's continue this charade as a private celebration at my place where all this started." He gave me a crushing bear hug and topped it off with a peck on my cheek.

After dinner we drove to George's home.  George and Jessica at obce went after the wine and some glasses. Then George, with Jessica trailing behind, showed me his home, winding up in the spacious master bed room.

"Our adventure started here," he announced, "so we might as well celebrate here."

 We sat on the edge of the bed and I proposed a toast to friendship, Jessica proposed a toast to women's liberation, and George proposed a toast to tolerance.

My wife and I hugged and kissed each other, her kisses as always full of promise. I was prepared to be passive and just watch someone else pleasuring my wife.

I did not have to wait long. George made Jessica get off the bed and stand in front of him. He told her that he was going to take her panties off her,

"Take the hem of your gown," he commanded, 'look at me and smile at me while you lift your gown slowly until I say STOP. I want you to enjoy your embarrassment." He finally made her stop and ogled her, especially inspecting her lacy panties. When he was satisfied he hooked his fingers into the panties' waistband and started rolling her panties down very, very slowly, savoring every second. He told her to now look at her husband but did not allow her to lower her gown; instead she had to turn around slowly.

Next she was told to remove her gown and stand for inspection. She was still looking at me and I wondered if she was slightly embarrassed being commanded to obey his wishes in front of me. She was finally told to lie down on the bed.

While she stood for inspection George had quickly undressed. He looked at me questioningly but I remained were I was, enjoying the show.

George told Jessica to lie still. He looked at her for what seemed ten minutes but was probably more like ten seconds. He lightly touched her forehead and let his finger trace small circles. I watched his finger creeping lower to caress her eyebrows, then her closed eyelids. From there his finger mover to her temple where it danced for a while.

Her cheeks were next to receive attention and then his finger became a feather, tracing first her upper and then her lower lip, making three trips round. It was a very erotic performance, and I was wondering what the finger would do for an encore. It was replaced by a waggely tongue that wiggled its way up the edge of Jessica's ear lobe. This brought forth some suppressed giggles and a slight shake of her shoulders and head.

She was again remanded to lie still. After a while the tongue moved on to caress her neck, starting downward from her ear to her shoulder, moving in tiny circles. I could see that Jessica strained to keep still. Her breathing definitely was heavier now but she kept herself in check.

The tongue continued its way south until it reached the edge of Jessica's oriole, which by now had turned a deep red-brown, broadcasting her mounting excitement. I watched in awe as the tongue, circling around the territory caused Jessica's nipple to rise and become hard. I had always been like an actor on stage but now I was a spectator in the bleachers and the view was quite different.

I knew that my wife ached to have her nipple caught between a pair of soft lips while a tongue washed the tip of her nubbin. She squirmed in disappointment when the tongue moved on further south to explore her cute belly button. As the tongue tickled her belly button she could not help moving her body, which brought another reminder to quit moving around and lie still.

The tongue went back into its house and a pair of lips resumed the journey south, making small smacking and sucking sounds as they traveled over Jessica's tummy. I could see some belly skin ripple under the onslaught of suggestive sensations, suggestive of what might be next.

Her belly quivered slightly in anticipation as the lips stopped just inches away from her clean shaved pussy. Dud she experience enjoyment or torment I wondered, maybe a mixture I finally concluded

George's large hand suddenly appeared and moved her right leg to the side. A moment later her other leg was moved to the side and George positioned himself between them. I am sure I know what Jessica expected to happen, but it was not to be.

The lips started kissing their way down the inside of her thigh, down her leg till they arrived at Jessica's toes. The little one was visited first, then the remainder, each receiving a warm, wet kiss, except for the big toe that was greedily sucked inside George's mouth. Jessica started to quiver, small moans escaping her mouth and then, without warning, her pent-up arousal took over, pushing her over the edge. She lost control as her body took over. Her back arched while the first of three successive climaxes shook her, hammered her, made her cry out.

Her "AAAAHH" reverberated in the room and I am sure it could have been heard across the street... George had held on tight while Jessica struggled and kicked, until the last spasm of her third climax died away. He then wiggled himself  up her body, took her face between his hands and tenderly kissed her mouth, her nose, her cheeks, her eyes.

After a short while Jessica rolled him off herself on his back. Now it was her turn to torment him but instead she pleasured him by sucking on his right nipple, then running circles around it with the tip of her tongue, interrupting her play occasionally to give his nipple a complete immersion bath.

After she finished her treatment of both nipples she moved down between his legs to worship what she called 'my precious toy'. It disappeared at once in her mouth where it was caressed by her tongue. Next she started to move her lips up and down the shaft, making it disappear completely from time to time when she swallowed it down her throat. I noticed that she was careful not to stimulate him too much, she wanted him inside her.

As she positioned herself at the end of the bed and wiggled her ass as an invitation, he got up and then stepped behind her, his hard-on pointing straight ahead. She reached behind her and guided his dick where she wanted it. She must have been hot because after just a few strokes she hollered FUCK ME, FUCK ME HARD. I was shocked. The f…. word had never rolled off her tongue in my presence.

They fucked for maybe two minutes when she had another crashing orgasm. She flailed her arms from side to side, digging her fingers into the bed covers, she shrieked and hollered, and then collapsed under him.

After she finally calmed down she turned to George telling him that she wanted to take care of 'my precious toy'. Always the gentleman, he agreed with her and she kneeled down in front of him and started to give him the blow job he had earned. And being a gentleman he offered her a choice: cream pie, on the tits, or in your mouth. She had moved her head from side to side twice, but nodded 'yes' to the last choice.

Later, when we said our goodbyes, he reminded me again. "I have tried to have you sample my girl friend Jessica and tonight you had a chance but you blew that one. How can I make a living with a customer like you?" he laughed.

I promised to sample Jessica sometime when I happen to run across her near El Toro, room twelve.

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

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