She had the sexiest Russian accent to go with that rocking body; it would get you hard every time she spoke. She was working in a small clothes shop, ...it does not matter which one). I walked into the store, and there she was standing behind the cash register. We started talking about old times, and she told me that she owned the shop. I was looking around the shop for a couple of minutes and then she saw me staring at her feet, “Still into feet?” she said. I replied, “Yes, you still got sexy. Each loosened, mother-of-pearl button was a clock tick closer to the horror of his zipper working its way down. She shut her eyes, praying a hopeless prayer for a heartless savior that never listened. Methodically, he folded and placed his clothing in a neat pile on her night table, as if each crease were as important as life itself. Even with her eyes closed she knew when he was finished and waiting for her. This nightly ritual had happened so many times, she knew without being told what he. More

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