" She better, or you'll clean up again, tonight." A burly, handsome black man wiped his hands on a towel. "Can I make something for you, Ma-am?" No. T...ank you." I couldn't make a sound louder than a housefly."Have a pickle. They're on the house." He pointed to a jar on the counter.Terry grabbed one and a napkin. He took it to a table. "Git yourself one, Lady. They're good. Angus' wife makes them." His bulk overflowed the folding chair's seat."I just had breakfast." An egg, one slice of white. She released her grip on her upper pant waist, deciding it wasn’t time for that yet, and things would happen when she wanted tonight. She grasped the soft fabric of her sweater and lifted skyward, first revealing the soft, pale skin of her belly, then her ribs, slowing to an inching crawl as the fluorescent lighting started to tease and reflect the intricate lace of her black, low cut brassiere. The black, lacy fabric barely enough to contain her beautiful, soft, womanly breasts, She tossed. More

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