Rose's finger rubbed her clit gently, and the sensation soared down her legs and throbbed through her; blending with the agony in her whipped ass, chu...ning it all around. Something started to throb in Gillian's guts, her pussy spasmed, and a long drawn-out moan escaped her lips."Yeahhh!" Rose sighed. "Come on, honey, let's get real wet for Aunt Rose, shall we?"Her finger ran over Gillian's clit and another one rubbed gently at the entrance to her little fuck hole.Gillian gurgled as the cook. When she returned with his soup, she was careful not to spill it. She also brought a basket with two corn muffins in it. He nodded acknowledging her service. Then he ate the soup, and the muffins. He washed it down with the complimentary water, and the coffee.When he finished, he took the check in his hand, left a dollar tip and walked to the cashier. He was second in line when a young black thug pushed past him. The kid held a butcher’s knife in his right hand as he threatened the. The counter timer served to remind the wait staff of how long food sat on the pass through, from the kitchen before it was picked up and delivered to the table.It was a fifties style diner, complete with jukebox and faded, framed photos of old cars, old movie stars, and old menus. People who loved the Last Chance Diner did so in large part because it never changed. They could depend on old-fashioned ambiance and sensible meals. The patrons on that last night were the same patrons who filled it. By peering out through the vents in the side of the van, he could just see the Warwickshire Plain stretched out before him; a patchwork of fields and woodlands, criss-crossed by winding lanes. Apart from the ruler-straight scar of the London to Birmingham Railway testifying to the modern era of steam locomotion it was a scene that Anne Shakespeare might have used as a backdrop to one of her plays. As the sound of the engines eased, James heard alarm cries from birds as the vehicles passed by,.
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