She was a friend, and a role model. Every production we’d done since she got hired on at the school, three years ago now, she had overseen. She was ...he director, and most often producer. She knew acting and theater inside and out. She was also immediately likeable. Funny and friendly and easy to talk to, yet professional. “Okay,” I sniffled. She rolled the script into a tube, and seemed to be looking for a way to break the tension. “I heard what happened,” she said, finally. “Are you okay?”. My attention was diverted to Corey’s head as her mouth took my penis inside and glugged with the explosions, swallowing my next two spurts.The name of God escaped from both of our mouths. I was a helpless mass melting into the examination table. Corey with her head on my pulsing stomach huffed from her fellating labors. “Crikey,” she said, “I don’t think I’ve ever taken so much sperm into my mouth before.” Laying with her head on my stomach for a while she finally said, “Would you like to take. As time passed it was likely the alcohol loosened me up so I whisper to my friends "Do you mind if I have some fun with them?". Which got me a "What do you mean?". My answer was simple "You'll see.". Shortly after that I said "Roger, lets dance.". And I go to the floor pulling him along. It was slow dancing. At this time in my life I had not had any sex or anything close to it in months. So slow dancing was about the only way I would feel a man. My friends knew instantly what I was up. Skin colour was obviously an issue, although a high proportion of local residents were themselves third or fourth generation Indian or Pakistani. The usual excuse for the vitriol was that the people Gabrielle employed were taking jobs that would otherwise go to honest Englishmen. This wasn't the kind of view that would be shared by anyone who'd ever tried to employ local people, especially from the London area, who would know one end of an agricultural implement from another; or for that matter.