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My fingertips sliding inside the waistband of her skirt, it is the work of only a moment for her skirt to unzip and fall in a crumpled heap around her ankles.Her panties match. That much enters my addled brain as my hands reach round to squeeze her ass cheeks. My thumbs stroking her hipbones, caressing her as my mouth worships her breasts.The scent of her rises to my nose, mixing in with the lingering scents of cooking and cakes, I can smell her. As her hand moves to caress my hair and the back of my head, I move my mouth downward, kissing over her stomach and down over the triangle of damp cotton.On my knees, my mouth roams over the spotted landscape, my tongue probing, licking her, tasting her through the damp cotton. Nothing is ever as thrilling as the first taste. That exploration, the first time her flavours explode on my tongue, setting off that chain reaction that ripples through me, knowing my own knickers are getting damp.I bend my head and lick, tracing a line along her. We drove only a couple of hundred feet around to the back of the closed restaurant."OK, get out," he said, turning off the ignition. He pocketed the key. Again I did as I was told; he got out on his side. He pointed to an area between the restaurant wall and its dumpster, and I walked there."Strip," he said. I'd been right, my clothes were staying behind."I have this," I told him, pulling a DVD disk in a paper sleeve out of my pocket.He frowned. "Carlos told you not to bring anything," he said."If Carlos wants what he told me, I need it," I retorted.For a moment he glared at me. Then he pulled out a cell phone. "Stay there," he said, and dialed. He spoke into the phone in rapid Italian; I heard "disk" but couldn't make sense of the rest. He listened for a minute and then wordlessly handed me the phone."Hello?" I said."Why have you disobeyed my instructions?" came that cold voice."You said you wanted a demonstration of my ability," I replied. "Did you think I could do it on just an.
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