He seemed to be a nice man. Not very tall. Thinning hair that was probably gray underneath whatever black compound he layered over it. He wore clothes...that once would have simulated an agent in the entertainment industry but had since worn thin and were clearly outdated.He drove to a pleasant neighborhood with older cars and streets lined with tall trees.“This is my place,” he commented as he unlocked the front door and led us in.And then . . .right there . . . right before me . . . rising from. Tiffany held that pose for what seemed like a long time, but couldn't have been more than fifteen or twenty seconds.She dropped her hands to her sides and said, "Thank you so much. That clarifies it."Without sitting back up, she studied Mr. Johnson. He had lost the struggle and was gawking under her skirt. She had him."What's the matter? Did I forget to wear panties again?" Tiffany said, pulling the hem of her skirt to her waist. "Nope, I'm wearing panties." What? Huh? What are... ?" Mr.. More

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