I was wearing lehenga and he was in jeans and a T-shirt. We left for home and on the way, I said, “Iqbal, bhaiyya zara paan khilwa do.” He stopped...the car near a pan shop and got a meetha pan for me. While eating pan a drop of pan fell on my chest just above my kurti near cleavage. I removed my dupatta, pulled the kurti down exposing more cleavage and cleaned the drop. Iqbal was staring at my cleavage. After having Pan and Iqbal having a nice show of my cleavage. We reached home. At night when. "Fitzhugh (FBI): "He exposed his phone number?"Pollock (CIA): "He gave us a phone number to contact him? Confident S.O.B."Roberts (Chief of staff) spoke quietly to the President, but her voice seemed to cut though the chatter. "One, get the parameters to JPL. Two, get NSA to help Hoover and JPL. Three, get Goldman on the phone. Four, track him down."Roberts continued, "Call him back, Mr. President. Stall for time. Tell him we think he's the perpetrator."Fitzhugh said, "And give me the number. His cock was so hard, his foreskin peeling itself back, was not big enough to naturally cover its bulbous head. He touched the eye and a string of pre-cum stretched to his finger. He started wanking the skin up his shaft and over his helmet then back again. This action opened his cock slit like a small version of her quim. He produced enough pre-cum to nicely lubricate his handsome foreskin. Free of his trousers on the back seat his balls bounced in time with his throbbing cock and his thumb. They stayed up talking until 4:00 am and ended up sharing the same bed. The kisses and cuddles were close but that was all. In the morning their ardour intensified but stopped short of anything too sexual. A second date had been arranged for two weeks hence and Zoë had been really looking forward to it, but when communications became sparse from James, Zoë sensed that perhaps the feelings were one-sided. When they met again as arranged, James was not feeling too good and Zoë thought that was.