My unvoiced question was answered immediately, she went around the far side of the bed, and unfastened the ties holding the curtains on that side clos...d, and then did the same on the other side.“We can pretend we are in some exotic harem,” she said. “You can be the Sultan, and I am your chosen slave-girl for this afternoon’s pleasure. You can take me, use my body any way you desire, my Emir,” she said, bowing deeply before me.I desperately tried not to laugh at her play-acting, and I wondered. She was only 39 and looked ten years younger. Bill was the same way. She was about 5’5’ and a hundred twenty pounds were stacked on her in all the right places. Her hair was natural blond as the hair covering her cunt could testify. In her 39 years only Bill and her doctor had ever seen that part of her. Her breasts were large and high on her chest. They were the first thing most men noticed when they met her. Only later did they realize that she was also a beautiful woman.Bill was also a find. Once again, they stared. Now what? I looked down to see what was wrong this time and groaned as I saw it, throwing my hands in the air. In all the rush I had picked out one of my old Eminem T-shirts where he is openly and vividly flipping everyone the bird. I hadn’t worn this for around five years, I didn’t even know I still had it. It was a relic from a phase in high school where I had gotten it into my head that I was a gangster rapper. Picture a nerd with glasses, a skull cap, pants hanging. I had no idea why I had pressed the button. No plan. I couldn't believe I had done that."Er... miss?" the man behind me finally spoke up, obviously wondering the same thing I was, "Is there something wrong?" Suddenly, panic gripped me and all I wanted to do was apologize profusely and restart the elevator. But for some reason I didn't."Can I give you a blow job?" As I continued to look straight ahead of me, I could not believe I had just said that to a complete stranger."Ex-excuse me?" I heard.