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” “Shh…clothes off,” Scribe began tugging at the waist of Stargazer’s pants. He stopped her. “You’re sure? What if it doesn’t work? ...his is your life we’re talking about-” she popped the button on his jeans her fingers carefully lowering the fly. She gasped as her fingers met with heated flesh. “Commando, Star?” she teased. He blushed. “Convenient isn’t it?” He slipped the jeans lower on his hips, giving her better access. Scribe lowered to her knees, her eyes scanning over him. A tight black sleeveless T-shirt accentuated her 38D bustline and a tight pair of faded blue jeans clung to the gentle swell of her hips. She was sitting alone at a table drinking a beer.I took a stool at the bar where I could see her and watched as she occasionally glanced around the bar. I assumed she was looking for me. She would also allow her eyes to stop occasionally on one of the young studs at the bar and every so often, one would stop by her table to chat, attempting to pick her up. We. More

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