The kitchen counter was covered with whiskey, vodka, gin and tequila bottles and when I walked into the dining room I found a naked man passed out on ...he dining room table.On my way to the bedroom I saw a foot sticking out from behind the living room sofa and I went to take a look. The foot belonged to a passed out Ann Marie, a red-haired girl who worked with Donna. I had always wondered if she was a real redhead and I was now able to confirm that she was. Her red cunt hairs were trimmed in the. To make it worse, Anne did not seem to learn from her mistakes; I had spoken to her eleven times to get her to get it right. I had fired secretaries for less than this.I had noticed as the month wore on that Anne was becoming more and more meek in her responses to me after each reprimand in my office.So this morning I called her in to my office for the twelfth time.“Do you know why I called you in Anne?”“No Jessica?”“It’s the typing again, you keep making so many mistakes,”“I’m sorry,”“Anne, I. I had just bicycled from Kansas City to Toronto, Canada. I can still remember the smell of the fresh baked bread as I went through the Portuguese section; the stacks of fresh produce in the Chinese section and reading the newspaper headlines the next morning that Elvis Presley had just died.I remember trying to impress everyone at the cocktail reception at the convention we attended. I remember when I first realized we were the only two who were not with spouses. You seemed a little depressed. Her belly. I took one nipple between my teeth. Swirled my tongue around it softly. She arched her back. Her face turned into the messy pillows. I drank her. I drank her like sweet milk. My mouth made love to her pussy. Licking, kissing, sucking, nibbling. She pushed her hips towards my face and followed my rhythm, taking it over, begging for pressure, steering for angles. Her body tightened and released. Shaking. Trembling. Moaning. Grabbing my hair. All of it with bewildered fire. Pushing down.
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