“Well? Cat got your tongue?” she coyly asked. “I’m ready for my story, Maestro.”The Maestro cleared his throat and replied, “Yes, of cours..., Isabeau. Your story.”Isabeau skipped over to the burgundy, floor to ceiling, velvet curtains and pulled them apart, allowing the pale light of the full moon to spill into her bedroom through the open sliding doors that led to a balcony. The Maestro flicked the light switch off and locked the bedroom door. His cock twitched at the sight of Isabeau bathed in. Good.”“I’ve enjoyed having a companion in the house,” I said. “And I’m sure my diet has improved.”That night I rapped on the door to Mae’s room. She opened it and stood before me in a long, cotton sleep tee that came to her knees. “Yes?”“You’re not in bed yet?” I asked.“I was about to turn in.”“How would you like to try sleeping in my bed? Nothing physical -- just sleeping together ... to see how it feels.”“I’d like that,” she replied.I led her to the master bedroom, turned down the covers and. The crying seemed to soften but it was loud enough for me to locate the young teen, lying on the couch. She was on her stomach, with her head turned towards me and had a ragged looking stuffed bear as a pillow.As I got closer I could see tears glistening in her eyes, even in the darkened room. Her dirty dress had been thrown on the floor along with her shoes, leaving her naked except for thin, dirty cotton panties. I could see that she was thinner than most teens, which made her look younger. I made an appointment to meet with Mr. Pollard to have an informal discussion about the property he had for sale. I said nothing about wanting to revive it as a dealership. Ray didn’t look anything like I imagined him. He was tall, at least six-four, lean with an angular kind of build, white-haired, and dressed like a very successful businessman. He wore a big, friendly smile and stuck out his hand in greeting when I walked into his office. ‘Mr. Pollard, I’m Rod Williams.’ ‘It’s Ray, Rod. I’m.