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I know it though, because I checked up on Thursday by phoning his office." The guy looked so young that I thought I might be able to bluff things out. "What's your name?" "Danny Collins. Very pleased to meet you, Ms Kubota." "Don't give me your crap. If I reported this conversation you'd be out on the street tomorrow looking for a job." "I surely would. But if I showed a copy of the tape to Mr Wang maybe he'd give me a job and you'd certainly be out on the street looking for somewhere to live. Check, Ms Kubota?" Not check, but checkmate. If he did have a tape he claimed he did. One thing was for sure, I certainly had been fool enough to kiss Ray here in the car park on Wednesday night, and somebody must have seen us. Since no one had been in sight it was probably true the only way this little snot knew about it was because of the building surveillance system. Which in turn meant that he probably did have a tape. And if Ti saw it he was going to get upset -- not angry, just upset over. Cupping warm water in her hand, she made sure I was thoroughly rinsed, and gave my shaft and balls a tongue test to make sure she hadn't missed a spot. Seeing this wife down between my legs, serving me in so many ways from shaving me to worshipping my manhood with her mouth, made me feel so empowered. The way she looked down there and looked up at me made me think such demeaning, nasty things. Here was the rich man's wife turning out to be nothing more than abitch in heat for me to properly use. If he hadn't put her to good use, I was. I gripped the back of her wet hair and told her to open her mouth. Immediate obedience made way for me to force my cock into her willing mouth and test the limits of her throat. I lustfully stared down into her wide open eyes, peering up into mine. Without saying words, I assumed that the look in her eyes said so many things she couldn't speak. Things like: "I've never had this size of a cock in my mouth and throat." "Please don't choke me and let me.
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But there it was, less than fifty feet away. He could only see its silhouette but knew it was one of those landyachts from the early seventies, a ghost from a time before the oil embargo hit, waiting at the edge of the lake like a beacon from the past. The car appeared black in the darkness and wispy strands of fog snaked beneath its dark belly like pale tentacles. But a soft, rising halo above the dark, thickly-forested mountains lining the eastern horizon announced the approaching sunrise and dispelled the shadows cloaking the car. The mist also retreated before the encroaching rays and in the weak blue light of dawn Will finally recognized the make of the car, a Plymouth Fury. His grandfather had owned one similar to it, but that had been decades ago. The car was huge and parked less than twenty feet from the water’s edge. There were no tents nearby and Will could only assume whoever had driven it there was sleeping inside. He shook his head, amazed they’d found their way.

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