Where is our exalted manager?Riley: To be honest, I sometimes don’t see him a whole day, which is absolutely fine. I guess he doesn’t need to use ...hat punch clock in the break room.Me: And what about that woman? She isn’t an employee, right?Riley: No. She definitely is not.Me: Does he have her around often?Riley: Yes, he does. I think he’s fucking her in his office.Me: That’s…Riley: Really gross, yeah, I know.Me: Riley, I think you deserve to know what’s going on.Riley: I’m listening.Me: Brody. We were so ready to cum for each other. I held her tight as I fucked so I could be sure to pull her in as tight as possible when it was time. Her pussy was stirring up to a familiar froth as I kept going. Every beat I anticipated her orgasm. Suddenly She tilted her head back and brought her leg down. She leaned against the wall and started to tremble. Again I was graced with her intense sex chanting “ah fuck yes yes yes” she hung her head and whispered and squeeled. I could tell it was. My hand was trembling as I opened the door and brought us into the classroom, locking it behind us and turning on just one row of lights. I felt sick with anticipation.Turning back around and dropping to my knees in front of him, my hands grasped his cock eagerly, and it felt like steel. I remember groaning as if in pain with how much I wanted it, and how he kept looking at me with awe, the kind of awe I must have been expressing as I felt myself going silly for his cock.The next thing I. I am an artist. I am Hispanic and my family have lived here in California for longer than any Anglos present here today. Only the Native Americans have been here longer. I am proud of my heritage. It had been a year's time since I painted Lady Gwen portrait. Always since then I had wished to come by her brothel and observe my work in its permanent home. My work is shown in many homes and salons here in San Francisco. But I was proud of the nude portrait I had painted from life for Gwendolyn. I.