Angela can feel her own pulse quicken. He suggests dinner. She agrees. They take Anatoly's BMW to the Central House of Writers in Povarskaya Ulitsa. I... Soviet times, this establishment was the exclusive preserve of the Writers Union and boasts music, carved wood interior decoration and excellent cuisine. Over the meal, the two friends catch up. Angela talks and talks; the talk a substitute for touching. It's too public for intimate discussion but she feels she can unburden herself about her. “OK! Good! I‘m Danielle by the way.” “Hi Danielle, that’s a lovely name. I’m Sarah.” We touched hands in a girlie kind of way and thanked the shop keeper before going back into the warm Austrian sunshine. We didn’t need to walk far and found a coffee shop not far from the station. “Do you want to share one of those apple tarts?” Said Sarah, as she ordered the drinks. I wanted to get the drinks as it was my suggestion, but Sarah insisted. “It’s a strudel. Yes, it would be nice, thank you.” “So. And we were in a safe distance for any soul to observe. He lowered me on my back. I raised my legs and spread them to receive him. My skirt slipped down to expose my lair. He removed his dhoti, folded and placed it aside. His shirt and underwear followed. Naked, he laid himself in between my slender legs. With one hand he positioned hid cock-head right onto my orifice. Previous painful experience hovered over me as a thin cloud. But when my dad exerted pressure, aha, I felt to my pleasure that. She smiled when she noticed that it was from him and quickly looked for a way to open the box. As she began to pull back the top it was obvious there was multiple boxes inside and they were wrapped and labeled with numbers. The envelope in the top was elaborate and fastened with a wax seal. The letter was simple with instructions to follow:Open packages marked 1-5 first and put them on one a time. Do not cheat and open more than one package at a time. You will need to wait for the other.