As I made my way to the bar upstairs I realized what she meant by cupcake. The bar was amazing, each booth was it's own private cupcake. You entered o... one side and it was literally like sitting in a cupcake, complete with sprinkle lights above your head. She was sitting in the far corner by the huge open windows that looked out into the city. It was a breath taking site, her and the night scape view of the city. I slide into my side of the cupcake. She gave an adorable little pout and slide to. “Okay. Suppose we bring him back, train him...”“Both of them,” Jeff inserted.“ ... Train both of them, and ... Morales gets pissed at a fellow team member? Think he’ll play pat-a-cake with the guy?”“‘Pat-a-cake?’” Jeff asked with a grin.“You know. The nursery rhyme. Pat-a-cake. Pat-a-cake, baker’s man. And so on.”Jeff raised an eyebrow.“Don’t say a fucking thing,” the General growled. “You know what I mean.”Jeff wiped the grin from his face before he pissed Whitworth off. “I don’t think that. She was taken aback as was expected. But then I pressed. Slowly she yielded in owing solely to my contribution to my sexual education. And even then she refrained from calling pussy a pussy. She called it vagina. Vagina? Eeww. That totally puts off the concept of eroticizing it. But nonetheless she talked. About sex. To her son. THAT made the difference.In the next few days I kept on asking her about sex and soon she was really comfortable with discussing it with me. But I made sure we do not. I began to tug my skirt down, but her hand grabbed mine to stop me “No,” she breathed into my ear and wrapped her arms around me. Her fingers swiftly worked my clasp, and my bra between us to the floor. My breasts are not as large as Ginny’s, but they’re at least as pert and a handful nonetheless. When she leaned into me they touched, I felt a charge; she kissed me and pushed her weight into me so that my knees buckled and we dropped back to the sofa. I was sitting mostly upright, propped.