The two of us are becoming a limiting factor on our velocity. Everything else we do has a team of people working on it,” I said.We looked at each ot...er. “So how do we fix that?” I asked.“We can add it as an advanced course of study to the training pipeline,” he suggested.I shook my head. “I don’t think I want our ops teams tinkering with the flows or having an inclination to tinker with them. We might identify some people to send to training, but this work takes a different mindset. Hell, I’m. He also knew that she was likelywearing matching red satin panties under that skirt. Her feet at thebottom of those long toned legs clad in diaphanous nylon were shod inred 'fuck-me' high heels; her costume jewellery glittered in the dimlight of the single table lamp.The clothes, shoes and makeup that she wore were not requisite to herrole in the play in which she played a femme fatale. Robert had smuggledthe clothes, shoes and makeup in for her. He payed off one of theguards to bring in all. Ifelt lost. Part of me was disgusted. But another part felt nothing but lust."That's enough, sissy. You are here for my pleasure," she said. "Now, removemy socks. And no fair sniffing." Another chuckle reached my ears.I removed her socks, feeling the dampness from her time on the tennis court.I was actually disappointed that I was not allowed to sniff them. "My feetare tired and aching, sissy," Miss Emily said. "Massage them."I complied. Her feet were cool and a little damp. I wondered if she. "She held him for a minute or so more, until he lifted his head. After giving him a kiss on the temple, she led him back inside.Ella awakened to the soft morning light filtering through the curtains. She turned to look at John and saw his brow was furrowed. He'd had a rough night of tossing, turning, and muttering in his sleep. She reached out to caress his hair, and smiled when she saw his features soften.Not wanting to wake him, she slipped slowly out of the bed, straightened her nightshirt,.