She came out in a mini skirt, low cut blouse and high heels. She got into the Suburban and pulled away. I gave her a good lead and then I followed her...across town to a place called Jack's Lounge where she pulled into the lot, parked and went inside. I'd been in the place a time or two and if the layout hadn't been changed there was an ell shaped bar that ran across the front and down one side, a dance floor surrounded by tables and booths against the walls. Jack's always had a live band and I. And perhaps the most glorious part of all, the loud SLAP, SLAP, SLAP, SLAP –about a second apart—and the creaking bed springs complimented with gasps and long moans interrupted only by my sweet Ailsa’s need to get some air back into her lungs. This was indeed music to my ears and best of all the sounds weren’t produced by the two trashy European sluts that I had fucked in Brussels the previous December, but from my lovely and classy wee Scottish lass, Ailsa. Suddenly, I heard someone try to. More

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