Then, as now, Claire communicated with Marcia as she would with asubordinate whose compliance was taken for granted. The imperious emailMarcia received now fit that model perfectly. It demanded immediateacknowledgement of receipt, a complete explanation as to how and whyPhoebe came to be in Hope Crossing, and a confirmation that Phoebe was onher way home.In the exchange of increasingly irritated and unfriendly emails thatfollowed, Marcia couldn't help but wonder that a woman who'd supposedlysuffered a stroke had made such a stunning recovery to her normal mode offunctioning. When, at last, after venturing several discrete enquiriesafter Claire's health that retrieved offhanded and bewildered replies,Marcia came right out and asked Claire about her stroke, the answer thatcame shooting back was no longer a surprise."I can't believe Phoebe would lie about something like that," Marcia saidlater to Grace. "And then to blame me for not getting upset." So Claire didn't have a stroke after. She drank her rum and Coke slowly, and soon Randy returned. "We can go in the back." "Right here. I want to make you come right here." "In front of everybody?" "Behind the bar." Juana hopped over the bar and landed on the other side. She brought her lips to his and passionately kissed him, running her hand down his body, softly caressing his butt. Letting her hand slide between his legs, she felt his hard cock through his pants and broke the kiss. Taking a look around, she saw the people around the bar watching them. Breaking the kiss, she winked at Randy with a sly grin on her face, pulled the straps of her top off of her shoulders and pulled the tank top to her stomach, baring her breasts to Randy and whoever was watching. Slowly kissing her way down his shirt, she knelt in front of the startled bartender and unzipped his pants. Reaching her hand inside, she opened the front of his boxers and pulled out his cock. Grabbing it with one hand, she looked up at him as she ran her tongue.
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