I was licking her thighs in between and then back to pussy. She was moaning. And moving. Her bra had started to slide but was still intact.It was the ...ime for the final blow. I put my fingers on her panty’s waist strap and she lifted her buttocks as if she was waiting for me to remove her undies. I waited. She held my hands and start pulling down her panty. I removed her hands and pulled her panty down in a stroke. She rested her buttocks.She clasped the bedsheet with her hands. And then I saw. This was all too much. Could she not have uninterrupted fun for one day? Just one day. She shook her head as the tears fell. She pulled out her phone and rang a cab number. She was going home. Thankfully, it would not cost a lot to take a cab home and she did not particularly care anyway. She just wanted her bed. In fact, she really wanted her bed back home in Hackney. She slipped outside unobtrusively not wanting to alert anyone to her disappearance and she got in the cab and went home. ***. ‘KC’ Mayer, a world-renown artist whose works now command top dollar, is also part of his stable of women.Three other women in his inner circle also work with him: Sheila Arden, his chief of staff; Melanie Wood, his director of special projects; and Isabella Mendoza, his executive secretary, and an occasional ‘stay over’ member of his circle.A seventh woman is also one of his special friends, although she lives with her husband in Denmark: Brita Jean Thorsen, CEO of Danskpharma, the giant. "I'm going to hurt you." I inhale sharply and close my eyes. A deep calm envelops me. Your voice justifies the thoughts and memories which I am allowing myself to replay in the theatre of my mind. I think of a fragment of our poem: "We take the golden road to Samarkand". The golden road. My journey. You: my guide. I mount the platform on which the cross stands. The wooden surface is rough on my naked feet. Your will demands me to touch the smooth timber in front of me with both hands, and.