One particular lady had been sitting at the bar the whole evening long, listening to all kinds of stories told by all kinds of customers. Stories of l...ve, desire and lust; some of them truly naughty, some of them a little more decent. After all, the tavern wasn't entitled “The place where stories are told” for nothing. Nonetheless, that one lady's center of attraction seemed to be big ol' Tom who always appeared to be a little too busy to really pay attention to her humble self. “That's the. A female voice replied "Hello, sir this is Monique from the salon downstairs. This is a reminder that your wife has appointment at 3:00". "My wife, that's not possible" I answered. "Oh but yes, it is written here; Room 1245, 3:00 for a make-up repair and fitting for a costume. Actually, that's why I called. As the manager of thesalon I'm sure you'll understand my concern. I've looked at the outfit, andwell, it's much too, well how can I say, exposing for public. This is sort. Wow! Perfect boobs. I asked her to lie on her stomach, facing downwards. I started applying the oil on her feet first, slowly kneading her calf muscles, and sensually relieving the tension. Slowly, I went upwards and onwards. Her thighs, her lovely round buttocks; I kept kneading them and bathing them with oil and kissing them.I put oil in her ass cheeks, it looked lovely, like a golden liquid flowing through a smooth valley. It was perfect! I then inserted a finger in her crack. She was. There I sat with rollers in the top of my hair and the sides and back curled under from the blow-drying, drinking my soda pop. I thought about my friends who did not have to stand this type of humiliation. I thought of my mother whom I missed dearly.Every time I moved my head, my hair would tickle my neck as it swayed. I thought of my friends that were all out playing football. Instead, here I sat at this early of the evening dressed already for bed in a girl's nightgown; rollers in my hair,.