She said “Good morning. Thank you.”She turned her back to me and held on to the bar with both hands. I felt she wanted me to do so too so I did. A...ain she was surrounded by my arms only now they were lower, just below her shoulders. The swaying of the train brought us in brief contact often.She may have heard me inhale her fragrance, I though I heard her giggle. The curve pushed us to full body contact, which neither of us tried to diminish. It was possible she felt my erection although I tried. We got naked and climb into the shower. She started to tell me about an event from the previous day. As I was washing her, she told me she met one of the room servants from the hotel. They talked and found each other interesting. They got together in the room the previous night. My little girl had told me she was bi, but had never acted on those thoughts. The two women spent the evening together in the shower and bed fucking and sucking each other, cumming many times. As I was hearing this,. Keep a diary? What for? What a waste of time. Well, if she wanted to know exactly what I thought about everything,then fine! As I started writing about my day, I decided I'd let herknow, in no uncertain terms, exactly what I thought about everything.I was as graphic as I possibly could get in explaining my dislike forthe way she had treated me and for what she was planning to do to me.Afterwards, as I lay back on my bed reading, I felt better. Somehow,just writing all that down and getting. There was a witness, who was not in protective custody if she was seen, I was to report her location immediately.A few other tidbits were added. Enough to make me wonder why I was being sent alone. Or why I was being sent at all. And I was shooed off.Not knowing any better, I entered the bar that Mr. Jacobson frequented and was last reported being in.Picture this: a six-three white man in a white shirt, gray tie and gray slacks with short, side-parted hair, enters a Hispanic bar at quarter.