“Shut up and just kiss me! Then after this dance, you’d better get me home and fuck me!”Who was I to argue? After the dance, we grabbed Tina’s...jacket, said our thanks and goodbye to Steve and left to walk back to the car. En route, Tina pulled a napkin out of her pocket ‘07774 … … C x’. When she showed it to me, I took it and put it back in her pocket.On the drive home I confirmed that, although Tina had tights on, she had no knickers underneath. We were chatting about the evening, everything. They were Mrs. T--, whose name was Annalee, and her charming daughter, Annabelle, who was already a bit taller than her mother, equally desirable but not yet as fully formed. The mother might have been forty but I doubt it and the daughter was perhaps twenty or one or two years less. I never asked or found reason to do so.I sat with them in their ornate parlor with its swags of drapery, sipping undemocratic tea, and learning their habits and difficulties. The mother talked; the daughter watched. More

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