It was a thick, high quality, smooth white card with impressively embossed printing on it. I would say it was by far much better quality than my own b...siness or visiting cards that I had printed up a few months earlier when forced to move offices. It was inscribed, “Mrs M. Jones, Assistant Detective”, followed by my telephone number (yes, my public call box telephone number!), and “c/o” her posh hotel address.“How?” I asked, marvelling how she could have this produced in time.“Oh, the concierge. ‘OK, a piece of leather and burnt offerings it is then…’ I joked, using our childhood derogative. ‘We can leave the car here and walk, it is only a few streets away.’ In truth, I really enjoyed good old fashioned battered fish and chips, but she was right, I also usually only got to have them when I was with Emma. For Thursday lunchtime Stoby’s was exceptionally busy and there was a queue for tables in the upstairs dining room. I offered to take her somewhere else but Emma was adamant that she. It was a different feeling, a nice feeling. He was holding himself up so I grabbed his balls with one hand and rolled my breasts for him to kiss with the other as he pushed his cock slowly in me then withdrew it and pushed it in again and again, picking up the pace, deepening his thrusts until he hit my deepest point. Both of us must have needed it because in less than two minutes I had cum twice, squirting liquid along his shaft and down his balls and he finally came inside me with a load. More like a media room in someone's basement.Anyway, the first one was showing a lame straight porn and was really smoky – the second one had a gay movie, but was also too smoky, so I went to the third, which was non-smoking.There were only a couple of guys in there watching a gay orgy movie, which was kind of boring. Anyway, it wasn't smoky, so I took a seat on a couch against the back wall and slipped my breast forms into my bra. I took off my jogging suit jacket and there I was -- sitting on.