As it was muffled by the relatively thick outer door, almost all we could hear was the regularly timed thump of base notes. It was soulful, romantic s...uff—what the guys like to call a ‘slow jam.’ I had learned that when a slow jam filled the air there was a better than even chance that one of my rommates had company, as tunes of this sort were employed strictly for purposes of seduction. The song echoed throughout the concrete stairwell, mixing, in irritating fashion, with faster-paced top. I kept my mouth shut. Crouching at the same place I was when I licked her pussy. Wiping my mouth. Drooling over her whole apperance, wondering why was she so attractive to me. She pulled up her bra strap and her shirt strap. Covering her tits fully. She lowered her face. I watched her for a moment longer, then she tapped on the spot next to her, indicating for me to sit. I stood up.I looked at her, she raised her eyes towards me, all messy, face bright red, wet panties around her legs, her tit. She must have fucked the entire lost generation, including Gertrude Stein.That era seemed like it was a million years ago.Everything changed in the 1930s. Germany’s economic problems helped our friends across the Rhine get back in touch with their former bad selves. I’m not smart enough to know what started the fight. But I DO know that by 1939, the Germans and French had picked up where they’d left-off in 1918.The French leadership was incredibly incompetent, even by French standards. So, by. Jan jumped at the chance for a new job and she put her stamp on the place right from the start. She redecorated the office and she did a great job of it. She always did. She was very crafty that way. She did the same with the house. The office and the house really became hers. Jan liked it that way. She liked to be in control. She needed to be. No mother fucker was ever going to control her again like her grandfather or that piece of shit boy friend of her mother’s, or was it two? Jan worked.
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