She’s been cooking since before dawn, maybe she’s just tired.She looks up at the camera and smiles as she mixes another batch of cake batter. “E...m ... Carrie Ramage, 41. I’m from Brixton in South London, well, I’m from Maidstone in Kent actually, but I live and work here now...”Charley’s interview technique is still fairly rough. Still not sure whether he should be looking at her guest or at the camera, so alternating between the two as she asks the questions. At least she’s now figured out to. She was already tipsy and very flirty but I just assumed she was being friendly. We spent the night chatting and it became clear that she was keen for more. However, having been caught off guard, I was driving and decided to shoot off (she initially offered me a bed at hers so I could stay, but again, not knowing her, assumed she was just testing the waters). I gave her my business card as I left.Sure enough, the next day, an email arrived in my inbox. 'Nice to meet you last night'. We then. Seeing the unmistakable signs now, she went through a set of exaggerated moans and writhing on top of him, sending the already disorientated man into further quivering.Then the breathing stopped, and Pat withdrew immediately, stepping back to watch the process continue. She'd seen it before, in hospital, many times: the loss of orientation; the apnea, when the breathing stops and refuses to restart; the agonal state of gasping, erratic respiration. He could still be restored, she told herself;. After crossing the city limit, the lights inside the bus was switched off. I closed the curtains of my window as street lights were interrupting the passenger’s sleep. Most of the curtains were closed and only minute bedroom lights were still on. After a few minutes, I felt the woman’s hand brushing against mine as the bus was moving.I tried moving my hand a little bit away, but still, somehow our hands were brushing against each other. This was a total turn-on for me. I became a little more.