He slides his hands up all the way squeezing her thighs firmly as he moves his head up to see what button she’s referring to, his cheek strokes agai...st her thigh and she twitches by the effect and accidentally press the button. The horn shouts load and she loose her balance feeling his hands once again gripping her she leans her hands on the other side of the control panel standing still a bit chocked. He sits completely still staring up her skirt, her white panties having his eye focus, as. Even Beatrice the crone—as she’s called by many of the executives, but not to her face—was laying down complements and flirting with me, and she never flirts with anyone. Beatrice wasn’t old, maybe five years my senior, but she dressed old. She always sported a bee-hive hairdo and cats-eye reading glasses, the kind popular with matrons in the 1950’s. She was thin, flat-chested, dour and sour in looks and spirit. Looks and mean-spiritedness aside, she was very protective of ‘her girls,’ as she. More

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