“What?” said Jo, not quite sure if she had heard her right, but feeling a slight twinge of fear that her voyeurism might have been noticed.“I sa... you looking down Micky’s top.” This time her voice was sly, secretive.Jo paled, her fear realised as she glanced down at her bare feet.“Please don’t tell her, it’ll ruin our friendship.” Jo begged.Lustful brown eyes met Jo’s green eyes in response.“Might do, might not.” She mumbled, still fixing her with swirling depths of brown.“Please, I’ll do. Oh my.Steve wasn't wagering just two minutes, I realized. He was playing for bigger stakes. Much bigger.That scared me.That tugged at me.What were my stakes? I took a deep breath and looked around my apartment. It was pretty empty, I realized. Not as spartan as Steve's bedroom, but still. Utilitarian furniture accumulated in bits and pieces through my college years. The scatter of books and papers and a few houseplants. My prized hockey possession—the autographed Joe Sakic jersey from the 2001. Dazu hochhackige braune Lederstiefel mit roter Sohle.Die Männer mussten sich sehr zusammennehmen um ihr nicht hinterher zu pfeifen.„Geiles Fahrgestell,“ bemerkte Jürgen.„Und der Arsch erst und diese Titten...“, schwärmte Mike.„Nehmt euch zusammen,“ ermahnte Martin. „Sonst fallen wir noch auf.“In der nächsten Stunde folgten sie der reichen Tochter die Königsallee rauf und runter und als es draußen schon fast dunkel wurde schleppte sie bereits Einkäufe im Werte eines halben Jahresgehaltes der. She was smoking and invited me in. At first I said "no" but it only took a few steps beyond her open door for Satan to get me straightened out – Hail Satan! - and I went back. I asked her what the deal was and she said that she was looking for company since her hubby was unable to perform. She offered me a cigarette, a Virginia Slims - I didn't know they were so strong - and poured me a drink, rum and coke, but mostly rum. She encouraged me to guzzle the rum, which I did and she poured me.