Her dark brown hair was curly, chin length, and was streaked with blonde so she almost looked like a tiger. I couldn’t make out the exact shade of b...own but with the pink restaurant lighting and dancing candlelight on our table, I knew exactly how I’d paint the highlights in her dark tresses. She wore a scoop neck top that hung open dangerously when she leaned over the table to explain the gnocchi, cuttlefish and bean salad, and beet salad with pistachios. I felt a little pinch on my thigh and. I don’t have all day.”“Yes, sir. I clean fast. Worry, don’t you. You sit,” spoke Reema in a lower class maid-like accent.“Role-playing, kinky…” I said to myself. Normally I don’t vocalize such remarks, but all this investigation was surfacing the slut in me.“Nosir. Don’t look me like that. My chest, don’t see,” said Reema.I was impressed with the way Reema was talking. Being a daughter of a housemaid, I knew that Reema’s accent was spot-on. I could hear the swipe of her broom. She was literally. It wasn't much longer before both of us were having trouble maintaining the thread of our conversation.It was after I'd lowered my head so Holly and I could share a long, loving kiss that she decided enough was enough: pushing on my shoulder so that I'd roll over onto my back, she quickly scrambled around to assume the position she'd been in when we'd gotten each other off so completely. The difference was that each of us was only interested in sampling the other's 'wares' for a few seconds. The covers were pulled back, but in the sheets, written in blood was: I TOLD YOU NOT TO FUCK WITH ME! With a speed she didn’t know she had, Emily, ran back to her and threw on some clothes and grabbed her coat. She was getting the hell out of there. This was what she had feared. Something happened to Mike and it was all her fault. She raced ran out of the apartment and into the street. Fortunately for her a cab was pulling up. She hailed it, and hopped in before the cab had properly come to a.