I couldn't help myself. The scents of their hot pussies perfumed them. I could just hear the vibrators keeping their cunts simmering. We reached the d...ors. I opened it, my two women breaking away from me and heading into the cool interior.“Why hello,” the friendly woman at the hostess stand said. She had a big grin on her face, her blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail. “Table for three?”“Yeah,” I said. “Not much of a wait.”“Not much,” she said. “Lucky you.” She grabbed three menus as a. Sorry for the short notice, but we're going to close the deal tonight. It will be an all-nighter. I'll be staying in the city." Oh no! Not tonight!" Sorry, but I must. I don't have a choice. I'll make it up to you tomorrow. Oh, by the way, I left Jack Taylor's shirt on the chair in our bedroom. He got drunk and fell on one of the waitresses. It was hysterical to see him clinging to her body as they tumbled to the floor. They were entangled with Jack on top and the poor waitress trying to push. They began to drift apart. The kids went off to college, and though living in the same house, they were living different lives. She didn’t know what he was doing each morning when he left early. She didn’t care. He always came home to her at night, and followed the routines a lifetime had established. She began to look at other men. They looked good. They stirred feelings deep inside she hadn’t felt since she had followed Tom in hopes of meeting her own personal rock star. Oh they looked good!. Fuck her with that fucking cock. Make her cum all over your cock." It was relentless, her whispers. Her lips tickled the side of his neck, behind his ear, and despite the sweltering 100-plus degree heat, he got chills.The brunette's name was Brady. She was the owner of a Chelsea art gallery, prone to wearing the latest in fashion and fitting in with all the beautiful, elite women of Manhattan. She was good friends with Johannah, whom introduced her to James after three days into the first.