My soft fair hands with long fingers and manicured nails against his hardened and unmanicured hands. I wanted to always be in contact with him. Wanted...him to know I was near. In a public setting I would reach for his hands. Sometimes I would distract him with my touch. He would be thrown off and stop the rambling to look at me with a puzzled look. I detected something else was on his mind. Had nobody paid attention to the details like me before? Was he not worth me attending to all the details?. I came home the next night to find daddy in deep conversation with an older rotund man, and as I approached his eyes bore through me, there was no doubting his keenness, was this the pervert who watched my every move, I was intrigued and strangely excited by my own revulsion?Daddy introduced me to him and as I shook hands, his felt clammy, weak, not manly, but still his desire made my eyes drop, as I looked to see if there was a sign of stirring.'You still practising Mariel', he asked me in a. I had learnt that her husband had taught her much sexually, but had started to stray lately in search of younger women.Her seduction of me was her way of paying him back for being unfaithful - not that she was going to be telling him.Heather had pestered me, coming into my restaurant a number of times begging to get experience. I had finally relented after her sustained campaign, in part due to her heaping high praise on my restaurant.For the last three weeks she had been doing work experience. ERRRRRMMMPPHHHHHH... Still no response.“Hey,” I spoke up, “could you please use your earphones?” I asked her in a forcefully polite tone that oozed of asperity.“You could have said ‘hello,’” she replied, in a heavy African accent, and her voice, comically, reminded me of the impression Eddie Murphy did of a “bush bitch” from his ingenious special Raw ... Yeah, I fuck with that classic shit... I chuckled, initially at her accent, which I wasn’t expecting, and then in utter confusion about what.