As if with their own will, her fingers continued to glissade back down and then up. She knew her lips glistened with her wetness. She felt wetness like morning dew between her inner thighs and ass cheeks. Not only was she able to see her chest rise and fall with the depth of each breath, she heard her panting, the short irregular gasps. Each breath, each exhalation, released pieces of her tension, of her self-doubt, her toxins, ghosts of the past. She moaned, loudly. Thoughts of his hand at her neck, stilling her, gazing into her eyes, reading her soul consumed her. She knew he saw that moment of panic before it was purged with the rest of her poisons. Calmness. His. He had a way of cleansing her insecurities, her self-imposed impurities. Chloe reached for her vibrator. Bringing it to her begging sex, with a quick smooth forward assaulting motion, she was full. She turned it to high. Her chin stretched up, her eyes closed. Pulling it out, ramming it in, she heard her pussy slurping. Smith nodded as he said, "Perhaps just a few moments of your time Billy, then we'll leave you to your shopping. Have you heard from your mentor since his firing?" *****In the silence Mr. Smith had my complete attention. I sat utterly still staring into his eyes. He softly continued, "We know Otto was fired from MCL, then we lost track of him." Grace asked, "Who is this 'WE?' Don't you dare say you and the blonde Mrs." Smith smirked as he replied, "Wouldn't dream of it." Then, more seriously, he continued: "Friends who are disturbed by some of Kressinger's wartime activities." "Mossad" popped into my head. I decided I did not want to discuss Otto with any Mr. Smith. I said more calmly than I felt, "I haven't seen Otto since he left MCL." Mr. Smith looked at me carefully, and then asked, "You have time for a short story Billy?" I shrugged. "Sure. Fairy tales can be fun." Smith grinned. "Yes, exactly." He stretched as he asked, "Refills, ladies?" Gwen answered frostily, "No thank you.".
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