My other hand still urges him to finger fuck me deeper. As I buck my hips to his finger fucking, I turn my eyes toward the dance floor and bar to see ...f the any staff or patrons are aware of our petting. As I rise past the point of no return, I notice a tall, red-haired woman, in her early forties, from the bachelorette party, who definitely staring at us. She is standing near a column across the dance floor, her arms loosely crossed. But rather than giving us an accusatory look, it appears to. "At school," she began, slowly and quietly, "I was like Phil; not dyslexic, but very quiet, shy, and a straight-A student. I got a place at Uni, and was doing well..." She swallowed, hard, and paused. "This guy asked me out. He was good-looking, funny, well-dressed ... When he kissed me, I just ... melted. He was quite the gentleman for our first two dates. By the third date, I just knew I was in love." She snorted. "Silly, naïve, sheltered little girl. I let him – I was going to say, make love. More

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