My secret puppet shadow hopped back into her hole. I couldn't suppress the open smile which revealed my happiness. I didn't want him to think I was ri...iculing his quitting but still couldn’t suppress my joy. I giggled then laughed.He continued."I'm serious. I've given it a lot of thought. It's risky, I know. I don't know if my job will last. We can borrow on the house to start. What do you think?"Still smiling, suppressing giggles, I replied."Honey, where did you take me from when we met?"As. . . . . . . . . . Their (first) Fuck "I wanna bend you over something!" were the next words out of his mouth. Beth stood up, looking around for something to bend over. He comes up behind her, lifting her tank top over her head. Her incredible breasts fell free and his hands were on them immediately from behind. They were both facing me at this point, and I watched mesmerized as he had his way with her, squeezing, hefting, and kneading her breasts from behind. She watched me closely the entire. The chill was easy enough to explain: she had taken her shirt off, exposing her back. Trish had thoughtfully put a warm towel on the pad to cushion her breasts, but she was still cold. The apprehension was more complicated. She had asked Leslie for a referral, knowing she was well-versed in these matters. Marla had made her decision, but was now having second thoughts about getting a tattoo. The parlor was surreal: walls covered with artwork and photos, music blaring from the stereo, strange. I reckon I must have shelled out over $5000 in commission to those pimps last year.Rome, Monaco, Biarritz, St Moritz. I follow the money. International bankers, super-rich hedge funders, Lebanese ex-pats, former Egyptian army colonels. They all need skirt and they're all willing to pay well for it. So long as the skirt performs.I'm certainly not one of those casino molls who stays draped on some miserable Chinese gambler's arm all night, slurping Pina Coladas and whispering sweet nothings in.