“You ready for this then?” Max asked Martine when they had finished. “If I’m not now, I never will be,” she responded. They finished off t...eir drinks and Max looked at the till receipt. Eighty francs? Where the fuck were they? On top of the Eiffel Tower? He begrudgingly counted out the money and was thankful to have enough change so they didn’t have to go through that whole rigmarole of trying to catch the waiter’s eye then waiting for him to grace their presence before waiting again while he. What a fucking little slut also Casey thought. Casey got onto the bed and looked at herself in the mirror. She imagined Andrew fucking her on the bed and this made her wet. She checked out drawers on Andrews side and found cocaine. She had tried it a few times before and took just a little bit out of a one ounce bag. She saved it in her purse for her boyfriend and her on a later date. Later that night around eleven the Andrew and Jane returned. Andrew told Casey he would have to pay her. When it was several inches away, he pushed his hips slowly forward toward her upturned face, laying the wet sticky underside of the throbbing head between the small valley formed by her closed pink lips. He placed one thumb under her nose and the other on her chin, pulling slowly out until the underside of the heavy head dropped slightly through the stretched lips and rested against her white bared teeth, the soft flesh of the pink puckered lips forming a furrow along its length. He flexed his. After a few seconds I crossed my legs again and once more allowed my dress to ride up my thighs, exposing my stocking tops once more. I then uncrossed my legs and opened them a fraction allowing him a look at my tanned thighs above my stocking tops. He snorted loudly and fumbled for his handkerchief once more. As he snorted into it I could see him looking directly between my legs. I obliged the dear old fellow by opening them a little wider giving him a clear glimpse of my still quite wet.
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