He called me over to the restroom and when I got there he said “I’m sorry, I thought you were Kenny”. I must of looked confused because he then ...aid, “Kenny helps people out for money, you know”. I thought he meant some type of work so I said “I’ll do it” and he said “ok, I’ll give you $20 bucks” I followed him as he walked into the back stall and said “come on”. I went in and he closed the door behind me and said, “you sit on the commode”. I did what he told me and then he said “pull my shorts. The idea should be that we move to more acquisitions for specific projects and fewer speculative collections. If we make things specific enough for people they'll pay a lot more, we'll be able to command a premium price because we'll be getting the customer just exactly what they want." Well, it's funny you should say that I mean that's how I started out. I mean apart from my own little hobby activities, the first professional job I did was for a guy who was infatuated with a girl. He tried to. I could hear muffled cries of passion coming from upstairs. I walked up the stairs, the cries growing louder and louder. There was a woman's loud shrieks, a man's low grunts, a bedsprings creaking."Ride my cock," Mark's muffled voice came through the wall. He was fucking one of his jogging sluts. "Oh, god, your cunt's the best."I stopped, Mark's words freezing me in place. Who's cunt was that best? I thought my cunt was, Mark. Fear suddenly clenched at my stomach, destroying the hope I was. Like the heroine in Dr. Zhivago for whom she was named, Lara had long blonde hair, blue eyes and a sensuous mouth. Her breasts were not large but firm and she moved with a quiet confidence in everything she did. The daughter of a British ex-pat I knew at CERN, Lara had lived in France at the age of six and was fully bilingual. She found my rather limited (or as she put it, practically non-existent) French quite amusing. By then the rain was coming down so hard that our activities were.
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