He was probably a good ten years younger than him, and cheeky. His face was angular and serious, and his black hair was slicked back. These fucking wo...s were taking over, now they were even marrying nice white girls. He heard this Scarlatti had a blond wife, a real looker, and classy, from some old New York family. He'd told him that the fee for a new gaming license would be 250,000, plus 4% of the profits from the hotel monthly. He intended to squeeze the bastard. Scarlatti had simply looked. Blinked a few times. "Yeah ... okay," I replied. "I was just underwater off of Pendleton on a mission. Almost killed someone. But 'almost' is good ... was good. Didn't have anything real serious happen. Can't think why I remembered that." I was thinking again.Arti pulled me firmly into the hear-and-now. She leaned over and stuck a tongue in my ear. "It's just you being crazy, you know. Everybody flashes back to another event in the past. Nothing strange in that. It's called memory."She was. I could see her perfectly sculpted, young breasts and her freshly shaven pussy. Her bright, fire red hair was messily sitting on her shoulders. I found this all very arousing... but the thing I couldn't keep my eyes off of were here feet. She had the most beautiful feet I had ever seen. It was as if they were sculpted by an angel. Her bright red toes curled in pleasure as she rubbed her clit with her matching nails. I wanted nothing more than to pick her feet up off my sink and put them in my. We’ve done this routine for over twenty years now. Finally, as I’m about ready to suggest a trip upstairs, she slowly lifts her skirt and shows me her shapely legs and naked thatched pussy, and then backs quickly out of the kitchen, into the barnyard and outward to the livestock pen. I follow her uncertainly, staggering a bit as if entranced. My brain feels fuzzy around the edges and goes dizzy with strange desires. The moon is just starting to lighten the Kansas sky. Once she leads me into the.