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A young girl, probably in her mid-teens and dressed in a light-grey dress and wearing a white apron and also lightweight headwear, similar to a nurse’s and matching the dress, pushed a laden trolley into the room.“Would Madam like me to serve?” she asked, politely.“Er, no thank you, Miss, I can manage myself!” All the time that this exchange was taking place, Chip had been eyeing the food, hungrily. I sat in my chair trying to seem completely disinterested as Mrs Albertson bent to pour my tea and hers and her husband’s beverages, as her skirt formed itself around a very pleasant-looking derriere. I couldn’t but help notice, too, the way that her breasts moved under gravity to fill the front of her blouse.“Here you go, Mr—Thomas. May I also offer you something to eat?” she added, in what I recognised as an understated but still recognisable Southern United States accent.“Thank you, Barbara—perhaps a sandwich or two?” The stand upon which these rested was also passed my way. Chip had. It was Friday night and my mom was out of town, which means at her boyfriend’s house so they can have sex. “Sure” I answered him, and I was little bit apprehensive but his car was so nice and he was dressed very nice so it seemed pretty safe. We pulled into his neighborhood which is just a couple of miles from where I live so I felt a little more comfortable since I was back on my side of town. We arrived at his complex and he had to hit a button on a remote to open a large iron gate and then we pulled into a private driveway with about a dozen very expensive three story lofts. I felt much safer after hit another remote and the garage door lifted. We pulled into his garage and he had a white Ferrari in the open space next to where we parked. I opened the door very carefully to make sure I wouldn’t hit the Italian sports car, although there was plenty of room my caution was unnecessary. We walked into his house I couldn’t believe how nice this guy’s house is. The kitchen is bigger.
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