Once inside his sparsely furnished apartment, Jenny wanted the party to start. “You got any meth? I need something to keep my buzz going. Fuck, ... need a drink really bad.” She started pulling off her denim mini skirt, g-string, and top, of course, leaving on her heels, and started posing like Paris Hilton at a photo shoot. “Hey,” she said with a flash of drunken brilliance, “why don’t you call some of your friends over and we can all party, you know what I’m saying, and get really freaky.. I half woke up around seven when Mom left for work, but I rolled over and went back to sleep. Usually by now I would be getting ready to start first period history. Staying in bed was such a luxury! I dozed on and off, and started to think about getting up.When my bedroom door opened, I woke with a start. I had forgotten all about “The Panty Game”, as I called it to myself. Of course Jitu was coming to my room to get the panties I had left for him. Or would have left for him, if I had. I won't name it because A) they don't deserve a name check, B) they probably don't exist anymore, and C) I nicked a whole bunch of really expensive graphic design materials from them during my six month tenure. My pay was £8.57 a week. It was 1970 or 71 ish. That's to set the background.I never actually received any 'training' as per the job title, my 40 hours per were spent running around all over London delivering sketches, proofs and artwork, collecting photographs (of all the fit young. If she stuck around and watched she knew we would be in. She would indulge her in some foreplay and then I would wander in and we could then blackmail her into letting me join in.The following Tuesday it was a bright warm day and quite by chance Jenny turned up in one of her short skirts and thin tops. I was in the kitchen when she arrived and straight away I noticed her nipples just poking through the sheer material of her top. I am sure she noticed me staring but I just couldn’t help it..