She was Fillipino, light brown skin, Black straight hair cut into a Bob, average looking, no make up, slightly overweight, a real find for Craigslist....HahaShe was a bit shy at first, Lawrence sat infront of us in a chair while I sat next to her on the couch until she felt more comfortable. We poured her a glass of wine and chit chatted for a while. Turns out her husband is a marine and that he had set up his commander and his wife to join them without telling her. His commander started sucking. " Anything you want." Who do you work for?" Pardon?" Who do you work for?" I don't work for anybody." She said, confused."You work for the South Africans, don't you?" I told you, I don't work for anybody." What were you doing north of the river?" I was kidnapped!" You expect me to believe that?" But it's the truth. I was grabbed by some Bantu and taken to their village." The Bantu would not have taken you there, especially not with that strange hair of your's. They would have thought you were. He was apparently wanting to establish his pecking order, a sort of nervous need for authority.The Front line by the sidewalk included cars that both started and were considered the best chances for sales. It doesn’t depict it here but there were front line car wheels parked in grass never mowed yet somehow seemed to add some sense of class to the otherwise happenstance looking operation. Funny thing was the sugar ants dwelled in that grass in the sand, the soil (we were close to the beach) and. With hips swaying in a “come-fuck-me” walk, you stroll over to the shoulder bag that rests on the desk. As you search inside the bag, your eyes come back to me.“You’ll want to get out of those clothes now.” It’s half suggestion, half demand. “But stay over there.”Without taking my eyes off you, I kick off my shoes and shed my socks. I let my pants and boxers fall and step out of them.You remove something from the bag, but place it on the desk, behind the bag, and out of sight. You turn and look.