Then it breaks and becomes a snarl of demonic passion. It singsongs a broken, disjointed rhyme that cuts me to pieces. Warm fingers lace with mine, s...opping my descent. The Cheshire grin floats back, a puppet without strings; blackberry lips start to part. It chants the tattooed phrase on my back. It’s the perfect line for perfectly broken imagery. I lean forward, entranced… press my mouth against those blackberry lips. They taste like candied fruit. Sharp teeth bite down on my tongue. Fire. “Don’t cry, you just had a happy experience. You look sweet and you’re supposed to be wet.” He reached with his fingertips and spread her panties to cover her pussy. She flinched at his touch and he bent his head and kissed the wet cotton. She moaned softly. “I’ve gotta go pee,” she said.“That’s not in the book.”“Neither is wetting a hotel’s sofa.” Simon got awkwardly to his feet so she could get up. He was thinking about a chapter later in the book. She saw his expression.“A penny for them,”. ==========================================================It had started innocently enough, I'd decided to go to Vegas in person to look up my old friend Bobbie Wright. I figured once I explained the situation to him it wouldn't be too long before he saw things my way. Just to be sure I'd had my guy track down Betty Rossin case I needed someone to collaborate things, I figured she'd cooperate, life as a "dancer" on the L.A. strip is never easy even when you don't have a three year old daughter. She could have sat down in the chair but she chose to turn her back to me and bend over, giving a random delivery boy a fantastic chance to check out her ass through her suit's skirt. Of course, I didn't do all this to check out my female boss' ass. I closed the door to her office – in violation of about a dozen official regulations we all ignored anyway – and she pretended not to notice. I knew her well enough to realize she actually wanted this, wanted to be taken by this delivery boy. I must.
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