Inside is a tastefully lit reception area. A pretty girl behind a desk greets Ms Nwakor, who shows her a small black card or pass of some kind which s...e must have taken from her handbag. More Igbo is spoken. Ms Nwakor signs a book, the girl gives her two cards both bearing the number 52. English is spoken here, Agunna,” explains Ms Nwakor, “but not at reception. It deters the tourists. Take this card. This is a private members’ club and no cash changes hands. If you want a drink or anything. She parked close to the back of the lot and hefted her bag again, then walked to the bunker. ‘Bout time you got here, sugar britches.’ A big hand came down on her ass and then squeezed one cheek. She dropped the bag on the ground and grabbed his hand. ‘Aidan, are you ever going to learn?’ she growled, twisting his hand and pushing it so his wrist bent back. She held it and added pressure until he apologized, to get her to get her to let him go. ‘Knock off the shit.’ ‘What shit? You do look. As I sat there thinking, my fingers absent mindedly rubbed the still wet spot on my tights where my son's cum had fallen. I spread it around and moved my fingertips to my mouth to taste him again as much as I could.I went upstairs to my bedroom. As I walked up the stairs, I realized how I must look. My skirt was wrinkled and much of it still was bunched near my waist where Mark's hands had pushed it as he caressed my thighs. At some point, the last button on my blouse had opened so my lacy. She stood her granma, smiling and glad to see her. "Granda!" smiled Little Red Riding Hood, as her grandma hugged her. It was a very hard, long hug for the kind Grandma normally gave, especially while sick with a fever. "Why Grandma," she said. "What a strong arms you have!" All the better to FEEL you with, my dear." The two went in and sat down. Granda went through her basket. "Oh--your mother's coloured-chip cookies, made of faery sugar! How sweet!" Why Grandama," said Little Red Riding Hood..