I know, our relationship wasLike a poem without rhymeStill, its heartbeatRefuses to fade with timeOne last hug, one last kissOne last cuddle, one last...danceOne last smile, one last laughOne last memory, one last chance…I miss you .Every time I look at our picturesI wonder why we ruined such a good thingIt is almost like we deliberatelyClipped off our own wingsOur love may be a lost causeBut the memories still remainI wouldn’t have it any other wayEven if it hurts and painsI miss you .If I had. All of my dreams and fantasies, cruelly teased and denied for so long, were released in that cheap hotel room. She wore just a black tracksuit: her scruffy sluttiness causing my dick to rise instantly. She looked so sexy in the worn, tacky garment, and unbelievably erotic out of it. I admired her as we moved to the bed, holding her warm body in my arms as I held her closely to my skin.I treasured that stance for seconds, breathing in her cheap perfume as my hands wandered over her smooth skin. Fromthat first forced handshake, John had tried every tactic he could thinkof. He had prepared presentation after presentation, regularly working 14hour days. He had used all the skill his mathematical degree from Oxfordhad granted him to make figures dance in his attempt to seduce her deal.He had struggled and strived to try and elucidate some element offriendship, or at least mutual respect from her. He had even, as a lastresort dealt around her and petitioned her American based. "Well I like to look my best at the office. But don't you think it odd that he would just take my picture in the street like that?" Not especially Trudy. Think about it, the guy was probably a paparazzi or something and he thought that a woman as good looking as you, strolling around during the day dressed up like you always are ... Well then, you must be a celebrity or something." I suggested."Oh don't be silly." Trudy, you've got an almost perfect figure for a woman your age, your dress and.