Betty had brought our lunch down, and she was like a mother to Addison.“Addison, let the poor woman finish setting up lunch already, I am sure she c...n stay.”“Sorry Master, I just haven’t seen Betty in over a week. She has been so busy with the resort guests,” she replies.“I know my pet, I miss seeing her too,” I say, then turn to Betty. “You can stay for lunch with us, can’t you?”“Of course, Master, when they told me you called in for a lunch for twenty, I said I was going to bring it down. The patch bore a red and yellow insignia, with some wording that neither American could figure out from that distance. Realising that he would need to elbow past both Boadie and Brent to approach the guide, Terry opted to wait until they'd climbed to their destination.Brent, walking just ahead of Terry, appeared to be sighing heavily, and several times looked like he was about to drop his guitar case. Terry caught up to the rhythm guitarist."You all right, Brent?"The slender Dutch boy. She looked lovely, head bent back, throat exposed and in position. I stroked her throatlovingly, running my fingers along the length of it. I think some in the crowd had an ideawhat was going to happen, but I knew they had no inkling of how it was going to beexecuted. The scene materialized as I took off my pants and shorts. With her head bentback and throat aligned, it was a natural. Before I started, I needed two more items from the valise. Gasps emitted from some ofthe audience when they saw. ”“Bet.”They ordered another round of alcohol.“How often you be goin’ to da gym,” Mario inquired.“Three or four times a week,” shared Shawn.“Damn! You got dat beefed up ass I see.”“What?!?!?!”“Calm down, boss. I’m just saying you built an’ shit.”“Thanks I guess!”“Hell yeah! If you was a chick, I’d be like ‘nice ass’.”“Thank you. If I were a chick, I’d say fuck me,” chuckled Shawn.“Dat’s what I wanna do,” admitted the slim thuggish dude with the mohawk haircut.“Huh?”“You heard me. I know you low.