She closed the door behind her. Then she walked over to the mirrors. She retouched her face and hair and went back into the restaurant. There she aske... for a cab. Two minutes later she slid into the back of the car.She pointed out the directions to her hotel.It took longer for the fazed out fucktoy to change back into the waitress Brigitte. Or what was left of her. They were minutes of gasping, gagging, almost throwing up. Then there were more minutes of sobbing muffled wails. And a low, sad. She was teasing me and she knew it, but worse she knew that I knew. But no way was I going to say anything, for fear she may just stop. The idea was too horrible, so I was willing to do whatever she wanted me to do. Anything so I could touch her and taste her. She held me open and still as her lips pressed against my skin, skin she had just shaved last night. I could feel her breath against my folds before she slid her tongue inside me, as deep as it would go. Mischa looked up at me again, then. More

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