“I finish at three,” I said, hoping to get rid of the cardinal. “Cash or card?”Too late.Paula Queagley curtsied. “Good afternoon, Your Majes...y. Welcome to my store.”Her store! She was merely a checkout supervisor.I waved a hand at the cardinal. “Cardinal Roberto Calcavecchio, Papal Special Emissary.” Then I waved at Paula. “Paula Queagley, Checkout Supervisor.”“Do you know the Archbishop of Windsor?” Paula asked the cardinal.The cardinal fielded the question with aplomb. “A good man. Doing. “Oh, my god! You’re not mad! OH YES! Yes, yes, it was a wonderful orgasm!”He was in full smile now, the tension completely gone. “You would do it, again? Knowing how I feel, you’d like to do it, again?” I nodded, that seemed to be the safest. I wasn’t sure my mouth would even work at that point, I was so excited by the turn of events. “Good, I have an idea.”He stood up and pulled me up with him. He led me out onto the patio. He pointed at the lounge where I had mistakenly forgotten my clothes. So I indulged myself in a moment of self-admiration. Like most people, I am my own harshest critic, but objectively I know I'm considered beautiful. Long, shiny, reddish-brown hair, big dark eyes, and facial features a bit too sharp, almost hard. Large breasts sitting proudly on a slender body sculpted to near perfection. Long legs you want wrapped around you.Not quite as beautiful as her body, I thought, yet it proved enticing enough to drive her to a wild plateau of passion when she finally. The tension started to drain away from me.One of her hands stroked my bottom through my skirt. Then the other handlifted the back of my skirt so that she could fondle my knicker-clad bum."Pretty in pink," she giggled, reminding me that she had had a clear viewof my underwear while looking through the letter-box. I felt my cockstart to stiffen. I realised that I was starting to enjoy beingdiscovered in a mini-dress and female underwear. "I just came round tosee if you were all right on your.