I may not be a spring chicken, but I can hold my own and drink just about any joker under the table. Did I mention I can fuck any dame from here to Johannesburg and back? That's why Nancy fell for me... that's why my wife fell for me... I guess I just ain't the kinda guy who can be with one broad forever.Anyway, back to the story at hand. I'm nearing my office building, a place where i rent a room next to some jerk that teaches limbless children pottery, and on the other side is some bitch with a ruler obsession(seriously the bitch measures everything) and across the hall is some white collar teacher's tutoring class for the freaks and rejects.I'm room 36; 3rd door on the left on the 3rd floor. I park on the side of a nearly deserted street when I get there, and by now my cigarette is nearly burning my lips. I've been mulling over when my friend(if you can call him that) Johnny Figgs said earlier that day: "Dead guys don't talk... and they sure don't shoot... Watch your back. ..I'm...uh..just watching...uh..." He mumbled, trailing off in a stupor as he ogled my tits and legs. I walked over between my son and the T.V.; I stood sideways to him and turned my head to look at the screen. The room was rather dark other than the light from the T.V. and I knew that my form was backlit, rendering my negligee completely transparent. I felt as if I was totally naked and I loved it. I could feel his eyes burning into me as I reached up and slid my hand down my side for him until my fingers rested at the hem of my gown at the side of my thigh. I lifted it a few inches and began to lightly circle my fingers there on my upper thigh at the dark top of my hose.After a moment I turned and walked to the end table at his feet. I reached over and flicked on the lamp that was on the table, again giving him a view that was back lit. I was sideways to him and I put my left knee on the armrest and my left hand on the back of the couch as I pretended to look through a stack of.
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