Apart from the white high heel sandals, her legs were bare. She wore a thin brown leather belt around her waist and this had the effect of showing off...her hourglass figures. Her hair was no longer tied up in a ponytail; instead, they were loose and hang pass her shoulders. The combination of the dress, the loose hair, and the lack of makeup made Megan looked at least five years younger. She was obviously with the stranger as the photo was taken from outside the clothes store from a sitting. He smiled apologetically and smoothed my brow with his fingers. ‘Sorry, love,’ he murmured. I kept watching him expectantly and he let out a small sigh. ‘Your friend – Ian?’ I tilted my head questioningly. ‘What about Ian?’ ‘He…well, what is it between you?’ he asked quietly. ‘Between us?’ I repeated. ‘We’re co-workers, friends.’ My confusion grew, he knew who Ian was. ‘Why?’ His lips twisted in a wry smile. ‘He thinks of you as more than a friend.’ My head jerked back. ‘No, he doesn’t.’ ‘He. Is it any help?" It's okay. It's more than I knew."Miranda sipped her wine. Even though she'd already consumed a glass anda half her face still rebelled against its stringency. "Is there a storyfor me in the pottery?" I don't know. Maybe one day." It's always later with you. I don't know why I've wasted my time cominghere. No story about Madame Dupont's school, no story about the pottery.Working for the Tattler as I do, I only ever cover things like councilmeetings and school sports days. I. I knew nothing of the stages of arousal of a woman then. My fingers swirled inbetween her lips and became slick and sticky with her juices. I lifted my hand and smelled her scent on me. the same electric jolt I felt in my groin. I listened again and m*m was still breathing with that same soft sound. As before I reached down and slipped my fingers into her soft pussy, even wetter, and oh so inviting.I knew it was madness but still I moved carefully down and broughtmyself closer to her. I.