"He sure was, a football coach. He was a wonderful man," she said, glanced at the business card and added, "Ms. Oakman. Let me check with Mr. Early's ...ecretary to see if he can meet with you."The name on the card read D. Grace Oakman. I'd emphasized my middle name in case I was asked for identification while in the persona of a freelance journalist. The address was fake, but the cell phone number was real. It was, however, a different phone than the cell phone I used as Debra Oakman.Tom didn't. You warmed the lotion and began to rub my back. I loved your touch, and every stroke of your hands over my skin was like an electrical vibration. You pulled my pants lower and I stiffened, again trying to hold us in our platonic state. You told me to relax that you just needed better access to my lower back. I relaxed and you continued to rub; it felt so good, but the warmth I felt under your hands was more than your body heat. You pulled my pants lower still and massaged my ass. My pussy. More

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