“What?—” yelled Michelle.“Who?—” yelled the stranger at the same time, spilling her coffee all over her chin and front of her blouse, “O... shit! Fuck! That was hot! ... Who the hell are you?”“You must be the cleaner ... Manda? ... Wait, you’re Mrs Smith, Andrew’s mother?”“Y-yes, hold on a minute, Miss Jones? Miss Jones from the Comp?”“Yes, Michelle Jones,” said Michelle, relaxing a little but conscious that she was wearing one of Tim’s tee-shirts and nothing else, long enough to finish halfway. She turned around just as we reached the bed, slowly opened her robe, and let it falloff her shoulders but hanging on her arms. Her body was exquisite, her breasts firm, nippleserect, stomach flat, and as the robe slipped off her arms it revealed a lovely little thong with nary a hair in view. Cindy draped her robe over the chair next to the bed and started to help me undress. She tugged at my belt and undid the clasp of my slacks while I finished pulling off myshirt. When she pulled the. More

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