Of course, my cell could chime atany second and I'd be facing God-only-knows-what humiliations.I got out. Grabbed the pack with the clothes and shoes,...my handbag.I checked my cell. But so far nothing.I crossed the car park, entered the hotel and found the bar. Lots oftables. Quite busy. Nobody really paid me any attention as I workedthrough the room and found a stool to perch on at the bar.I took my cell out and checked the special email address again. Nothing.The cell chimed. Shit. I thought I. Though she knew what it was by the feel of the leather cover, she pulled it out anyway.The spellbook had been her bane ever since she'd purchased it. Though she had learned quite a few useful spells, the more advanced ones within this book had all eluded her so far. She did know the descriptions of the magic and the wonders it could produce by heart, and turned to the page of one that demanded attention.Farspeak - the ability to send one's voice to another across the miles. With it, she could. Her nipple was hard and pliant, a rubbery little nub between my fingers as I rolled and squeezed it gently, I gathered from the conversation that she was talking to the brewery which supplied the pub, but I wasn't really interested, I dropped to my knees and parted her legs before touching my lips to the soft, brown flesh of her inner thighs.She had on a delightfully small, tight g-string, a tiny spot of moisture on the gusset which acted like a magnet to my tongue as she carried on with her. She was 5 ft, 3" tall, with a dress size of around 12, her breasts were 36 c but could vary a bit with weight fluctuations, as with many woman, this was never a constant factor. Her shoulder length, dark brown hair was always well cared for I often noticed that older people still treated air travel as something really special, whilst to me, it was a flying bus.In the car on the way to the airport, mum was chattering away. She was really looking forward to the weekend, and hadn't been to.