Yet your face reveals none of this. You carry on a conversation and ignore my obvious state of arousal.As the waiter approaches, you ramp up the dial ...ithout your face letting anything slip. The waiter's glance lingers a little too long on my face. I fear he knows.As he walks away, you lower the dial. You lean over and whisper in your gruff voice "Flare your skirt out. I want your bare skin on the seat. And in my presence, your knees shall not touch unless I have bound them together. And NEVER. You know what it is. Rule #1, all together now!”The entire crowd recited Rule #1 with me.“DON’T BE A DICK!”“That’s right! Ronnie! Hit it!”Ronnie took off with a wild piano solo and led us into the next song. I looked up to the kids’ room above the sound booth and the girls were all dancing with the grandparents and the place seemed to be building a great vibe. As I scanned the room, while Wendy was ripping a sax solo I saw John Firth, the guy that had hit all three of my wives before I dove off. Curiosity got the better of me one day, so I asked him. I looked up at him his hazel eyes catching the refraction of the over head light nearest the cash register. My instinct was to look down. He has that way about him, a commanding presence. "Look up at Me, baby girl," he says thoughtfully. I do as asked. "Every morning I come in here, and your throat catches and you look away from Me. Is there something that you want to say to Me?" He asks coyly. "Well, Sir..I was just wondering' how come. When their heads were close together he murmured, "What if there was more than one?"At first she thought he was just fantasising; making mind pictures to turn himself on. She rode along with him and then, opening her eyes said, "How many?"Seeing that he had grabbed her attention, Paul stopped pumping her and climbed off, sitting himself up. "Four or five, definitely no more than six. Sort of a gang-bang." I have heard the expression," she said, softly. She buried her face in the pillow. What.
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