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“Its great. I mean, its fine. This is your house. You can do whatever you want. I think I’m just going through that thing my dad told me about.”... “You mean puberty?” “Yeah, that.”She sounded so mature. “So this is a new experience for you? Having a girl who you think is pretty alone with you?” “Yeah. Its just…” I looked at her chest and wet t-shirt. “Just what? My shirt? Well, it WAS your idea.” She said with a smirk. “I know. I told you. I am told you will do it for money.”I couldn’t say, really, that I was surprised. He had taken me out on the dance floor and we were dancing a waltz, him holding me close. I could feel the want of him inside his trousers. He was tall and lean, dark-haired. He spoke French with the accent of an educated Moroccan. Beyond that and that his evening clothes were elegant and he couldn’t be much older than forty and his fingers were long, sensuous, and manicured, I could tell no more. It was a masked. More

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