She had lost her friends and she'd have to look for an officer for help. She frowned as she thought about the one who greeted them at the entrance - a tall and tanned man, in his late twenties, who had looked at her from head to toe like she was a fugitive. She'd turned her eyes away under his scrutiny. Her small frame had made her feel vulnerable compared to the six feet tall guy looking at her. Something in the corner of her eye caught her attention and she stopped in her track. She looked at. She looked young and fresh in her blue jeans and sweatshirt and scant makeup. Her smile made his heart ache."Feeling better?" she asked."Uh, sure," he replied. "Listen, honey. We need to talk."He reached for his coat and shrugged his arms into it. As he sat down, Suzanne scooted closer and took one of his hands and held it in both of her own."Yeah, I guess we do, huh?" She took a deep breath and closed her eyes as she blew it out, a happy glow suffusing her face. Then, opening her eyes, she. " He loved her music, her instrument, and after a pause, like the break between scores in a concert, he reached to spread the lips of her sex, thumbs spreading her, opening her sex to his eyes, watching the drop of her nectar that had gathered at the opening to her fall, running down and onto the tablecloth.He bent and ran his tongue along the delicate skin below her sex, tracing up over her sex, tasting her, drinking her, then dipping into her well, tracing the rim of her cunt, running around. "Now what," I mumbled. Walking to the door, peeking through the hole, there she was.I opened the door. She stood there with a bottle of vodka, a bucket of ice, and a bottle of orange juice. She asked, "How about a screw . . . driver?" Great double entendre, again, for a young woman. I invited her in. She must have had another drink or two because the odor was pretty strong. I asked why she wasn't in her room, and she said, "You were so nice to me, I had to do something nice for you. Can I at.
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