She recognized other people as well - local politicians and someone she was pretty sure was on the New York Yankees. But, there was a polite, entirely...fictitious anonymity in the Loft. If people didn’t introduce themselves to you, it was considered the height of bad manners not to pretend you didn’t know who they were.Some time shortly after midnight, a friend of a colleague mentioned that she thought she’d seen Connie’s date hanging out with Kate Moss on the roof. Connie didn’t want her date. I had just woken up from my sleep and I could hardly make out what she was saying.The only thing I could make out was “can you come downstairs, please?” I grabbed a t-shirt and put it on and went down. We live in a two-storied house with the dining and dad’s office downstairs and the bed rooms on top. I opened the door to see this young lady, possibly in her mid-twenties. She was fair, more or less; her hair was pulled back in a short pony tail. She was wearing a white shirt with light grey. Heknew that he was not a macho man; however, he could fake it when he hadto and act like he was a macho man. He finished getting dressed, just apair of blue jeans and a t-shirt, then he put on the high-heels on to hisfeet and he thought he would never be able to get anything out of thepockets of these blue jeans with very long quite feminine fingernails andgrabbed the navy blue shoulder bag and put everything that he would needinto it. After a quick trip to the bathroom he went to the kitchen. She likes to recline on John, and since John was already lying back in his lounger, her soft buns settled right over his cock. To make matters worse, John had on thin cotton boxer shorts, and Candy wore no panties. This was no surprise. She never wore anything under her nightie, but this was a new nightie. She picked it out, and her new nightie was short, sheer, and loose.His eyes rolled back as she settled again and let her legs fall outside his. Poor John. Lying still for this had to be sheer.