The waitress told Glenda to give her a minute, saying that she would be right back and almost wraith-like she reappeared and told us that since it was...quiet, her boss said she could leave early. Standing slowly, Glenda grabbed her jacket, but instead of putting it on, d****d it over her shoulder and walked out of the club with her blouse open, much to the enjoyment of anyone watching the three of us leaving. If I thought the action in the club was hot, it went into overdrive as soon as we got. But he'd laid the blouse down, picking up a tiny lace thong tobury his face in.Back in the present a chilly draft touched his neck.The shoe lay on the bed again, he saw, and his fingers once more fondledthe tiny bra thing - the silken spaghetti straps and the filmytriangular panels.The chill came from his still moist hair.He rose and put on a robe. Then he got his blow dryer and brush, turninghis hair into a silvery mob of curls that danced around his face.How he hated his hair. How he hated. More

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