"Marcia pointed out that no one held her here in Hope Crossing atgunpoint. She was free to go at any moment. In fact, no one had askedher to come here...in the first place."I came here because our daughter--my daughter--was in trouble and forsome goddamn reason she thought it was a good idea to see you. Which,obviously, it was not."Walt grimaced. "Doesn't sound like it was a very pleasant lunch."The conversation had, in fact, from that point on managed somehow torepair itself. In no way did it. She took a final sip of her margarita, smiled and stood. Again I wanted to scan for her husband but again I fought off the urge and took Murphy’s hand and led her out to my car. “Wait a minute” she said and walked to a car not far from mine and retrieved a small overnight bag from the trunk. I opened my passenger for Murphy and she smiled and said, “Oh, a gentleman.” “A gentleman with a lady,” I replied with a grin. Driving up Interstate 55, we chatted like magpies and soon arrived at the John. I started moving my fingers from side to side and soon Michelle was breathing harder and starting to squirm from the friction against her love bud. She soon was begging me to stop because she was headed for an orgasm and had to leave. As I removed my hand from her bald pussy, I licked my fingers and had my 1st taste from her honey pot. Having progressed to fingering Michelle and having my own personal hand pillow, I couldn’t wait until the following week’s visit to the bar. As I arrived at. “Fuck yeah,” he snarled.Fifteen minutes later, I was turning off my lights and parking near the woods up the street from my house. Gary and I walked around the back of the block, avoiding the streetlights. A few minutes later we were crouching in the darkness in front of Rachel Finklestein’s house. Through the front window I could see Rachel in her red satin robe, glimmering with sweat. One of her hands held a glass of booze, and the other one held Lisa Hatcher’s waist. I had only seen Lisa in.