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"Thank you" said the man. The waitressnodded and smiled and looked towards a door at the back marked'Private'. The man watched the girl as he waited. She was perhaps onlyin her late teens or early twenties. She had a fair complexion and herlight blond hair was styled into a jaw length bob that had been bubblepermed. Pinned to her hair was a white cardboard cap. There were nodistinguishing features on her face apart from a few freckles. She wasquite thin and her uniform hung on her loosely. She wore a peachcolored heavy cotton blouse and a light cotton blue skirt with polkadot white spots. The uniform was slightly comical given the moreaustere setting of the rest of the restaurant, but was maybe chosen tolighten up the atmosphere which was not one of stuffiness. The door opened and all the heads turned to see the manageress enterthe room. She had brunette colored hair cut in a business bob styleand wore a smart two piece fawn colored suit. She held a clipboard andwalked purposefully. "Oh shit I'm going to cum" I heard him moan I gave a couple pumps pulling back just a little as I felt the walls of his cock pump explode shooting a couple thick shots on my tongue followed by a couple more as I paused before I took a couple gulps swallowing each and every drop sucking hard until no more would come out giving it a couple more pulls letting it pop from my lips giving the head a couple soft kisses. Coming up from his lap I licked my lips saying "umm that was nice" hewas just grinning "dam you swallowed it all" I smiled again answering "I told you I would" then he surprised me pulling my lips to his kissing me again running his hand up my legs feeling right between them then down my leg again saying "suck me again". I smiled and without hesitation down I went sucking him again and it didn't take him long he was just as hard as before pulling my head up it popped from my lips he stood up pulling me up then had me lean over on the couch he got behind me lifting my dress.
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But what did she want? He felt so inadequate. *********************************** Maria Benevides-Carpenter was sitting in her office outside Tel Aviv, spooning blue stuff from a small plastic container of yoghurt that sat on top of a growing pile of paperwork. She was reading over an intel report from agents in northern Europe concerning the movement of Iranian agents all around the Baltic, and the more she read, the more worried she became. Why there? Denmark she could understand, but why Oslo? Why Riga? A courier came in, handed her what she assumed would be a priority message, and Jonas nearly bumped into the kid as they crossed in her doorway. ‘You eating that blueberry crud again?’ he frowned at the blue goo in her spoon and rolled his eyes. She opened the dispatch and pointed at the seat across from her desk. ‘Sit,’ she said. As section chief for European field operations, her area of responsibility had quadrupled in the days after 9/11, and now, at almost seventy years old,.

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