Her story was much like Bridget’s. He was a real gentleman with great bed skills. He thanked her for a great session and said he planned to visit co...porate headquarters in the near future. Perhaps he could enjoy her company again at that time. She didn’t say no and suspected Bridget wouldn’t either.Francois did make the promised visit a few months later and demonstrated true European gallantry. He brought along his own Personal Assistant, a lovely brunette named Mimi who filled whatever bed was. "Enough for now, you little slut! We have to appear to be in good shape when mom and dad get home. Make sure you brush your teeth thoroughly and use mouthwash to kill the odor of all that booze you were drinking." I giggled, but made a real effort to clean myself up, especially my sore pussy. I hoped all that semen was draining out of me. Gordon got us both dried off. By this time I was feeling a bit more sober. I got into my nightie by myself and climbed into bed. Gordon put on some fresh. Freddy open the silver case, adorned in etched paisleys and inlaid with a golden looking filigree. He pulled one of eight matches out of the box, and stared at it. A round timber stick, small, thicker than modern matches, and the match head was a quarter the length of the matchstick itself. Freddy struck it against the strike pad. It lit up, maybe a little too well. He held it steady and moved toward the lamps on the end table. The wicks lit as easily as the match, and there was light. This. “Look! Someone forgot something.”“Yes, Mary, you did. Please, sit down.” He put the box on the paper place mat in front of me. “Open it.”Inside was a handmade knit scarf with a cap and mittens to match. “Oh, my,” was all I could think of to say.“Are they okay?” His brow was furrowed, like he was very concerned.“They're beautiful! But, why?”“You lost your scarf, remember? We're going to have a good lunch, and then we're going to walk it off. I want to show you around. You'll need a.