He chalked it up to luck (his), loneliness (hers), and being from out of town. Funny how a hotel room turns a woman on. Is it the clean sheets? The...anonymity? Or is it that it’s a new venue that lets you suspend your ordinary life for awhile? He thought it was a combination of all of those factors. The way she responded to his body was about what he expected. Most of the women he dated liked that he was powerfully built—the baser instincts still run deep in humans, despite the social. "I knew I could count on you, Grindell!"I decided not to remind him my name was Randall. He was happy, and that meant I'd stay employed, and happy too.What's in a name, anyway?Friday evening, August 10th [Chris]When the rain started pouring at the same time my tire decided to go flat, Lady and I discussed turning around and taking our butts back home to hide under the bed. Family loyalty won out, though, and we arrived at Dad's fifteen minutes before dinner was scheduled to be served.I was such. "Hi Angela, Clarissa, you made it home ok then." I found a glass. "Can Ijoin you in a drink?" neither looked particularly comfortable with myjoining them.Mark spoke first, "No not at all please do." However his words were indidn't match the body language."I really next to go and finish off some things." Clarissa was rising."I'll see you at dinner then Angela." A moment later he'd vanishedthrough the door.I sat down beside Mark, took a couple of sips from my glass beforespeaking."Angela you are. Next came four magnificently built Nubian guards, each tall and handsome and very similar in appearance to Hassan. Each was naked but for the briefest white pouch about his genitalia. Next came the naked figure of a remarkably beautiful slave girl; six feet tall... and even taller in her thigh-length boots of golden leather with their six-inch spike heels. Her features and the whole of her body were coated in shimmering gold lacquer; upon her head was a golden wig. She moved with the grace and.
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