Everyone else was living their own lives. Teenage girls gossiping and bitching. An elderly couple not speaking but somehow so obviously comfortable. T...e endless chirpiness of the baristas and waitresses. People going by on the street outside, laughing and fighting, together and alone, eyes fixed somewhere in the distance like they were numbly following a dream.And all Daphne could think of was sex. About what was under Fred’s clothes. About him shirtless and jeans-less. About the way he might. The Marlasmiling at me still was a pretty girl, and I was proud and grateful thatshe was my wife. 5'3" in the flats she now wore, the 125 pounds werewell-distributed over her toned body. The attractively-styled short hairwas a rich dark brown, tinted to conceal a bit of gray. Her pretty aquaeyes danced, and I felt again how much sheer fun it was to be with thiswoman, a joy that never had disappeared despite thirty years together--years full of some bad times but never times when either of us. I licked and sucked alternately, listening intently to the sounds coming from Nancy.“Listen to me, Billy. A man should just… listen,” the Countess had told me. “My breathing and the sounds I make will tell you when you are doing something I like down there. If you just listen, you will hear all you need to know to please me.”Nancy was not at all hard to figure out once I started listening to her. She would moan a steady low hum, and then increase volume and pitch simultaneously when I hit a. Call me Fatima. I have made Biryani for you.” We sat down to have the biryani. Throughout the dinner, Fatima was giving me naughty looks as if she was up to something. Then it was time for us to go back to our apartment, but Fatima held my hand and said to Maya, “Bhabhi I will pay you five thousand for a night with him.” And she gave the money to Maya.Now Fatima locked the door and took me to her room and latched the door. She said, “Have you fucked a Muslim woman before?” I said, “NO”. She.