But he’ always trying to do what’ best for everyone. Just sometimes, he can’t.“If your upset, why don’t you call up what’s-his-name. Umm.....Sam. That’s it. I’m sure he’ll be kind enough to comfort you.”“Ha. Ha. You’re so funny.”“I know, I should have a show.”“I’m just really not sure what to do.”“Perhaps you should talk to him about this. He’s a pretty good listener when you get him cornered.”“Mm…”We spent most of the day talking about stupid things, and her explaining, that the boat, in fact. I noticed the light on my table blinking as the drunken salaryman finished his song, informing me that I was next. I walked up towards the stage; the DJ announced my name and the song I was about to sing (Neil Diamond's "Holly Holy" if you must know, it's my usual warm-up song) when I looked up at her looking at me. Luckily, I know the song well enough to finish it without breaking eye contact with this beautiful lady. As I finished, I noticed her light blinking and decided to listen very. He fucked her so hard she wondered if the chaise would collapse beneath them but it didn’t somehow. He stared into her eyes fiercely, not with anger but … frustration, that’s what it was, she realized. Then, as he always did, an instinct by now, he reached one thumb down to brush against her clitoris and she exploded around him with a shout, clenching him firmly outside and in. A minute more of ragged thrusting and he was coming, too, shouting her name as she had his, then dropping on top of. Unbeknown to me, at the time, the drink certainly had been “spiked” and not just with alcohol, the obvious ingredient, a mixture of vodka, sangria, brandy, orange and a few others, but unbeknown to me, until later, was the addition of juices from your orgasm, the results of your standing over the bowl as your fingers worked deep into your pussy, rubbing your clitoris. As you came, your juices flowed, dripping into the already mixed cocktail.The shower regenerated my senses and my body muscles..