In the story, it worked. She would often break out in a sweat or tremble there in the restaurant, afraid she was going to lose control and reach for t...e glass before the next man arrived. When he did arrive, her gratefulness for taking her away from the glass made her that much more pliable in his hands. Tiffany had told me it was a favorite story -- it made her "juice" she'd said -- so I'd insisted we meet this way."No, sir, the lady arrived alone." I looked at the waiter but didn't talk. He. As ifaware of her thoughts, and with another smile, he brushedthe palms of his hands over her nipples, then reachedbehind her and unfastened the final clip so her breastswere exposed to his gaze.Demi thought she might die with pleasure, as he tracedthe outline of her nipples with his thumbs, saying with afaint trace of huskiness, ‘I see you are beginning to trustme, after all.’Once more, he stood back, this time his gaze loweringto the tiny thong that covered what was left of hermodesty.‘But. More

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