He watched as I dabbed a bit on.“Honey, put a little perfume on your neck, too.”I did.“Maybe some between your breasts, just in case...”“OK.”“Thighs?”“Tom, stop it! I can accept the idea of having someone playwith my breasts, but. . .”“OK”.I selected my fooling around outfit for the evening. Silkblouse, long wrap around skirt that showed leg when Iwalked, fairly high heeled shoes. No bra, no slip, nopanties. If we were. Time was getting short, and he was still pissing away his time in London. He tugged at his tie. He was regretting his passing interest in a pretty girl. He sneered at himself and spoke out loud "You idiot Ogilvy! Keep you dick in your pants next time."His eyes moved down to review his medals and ribbons and he sighed. Too many painful, precious memories. He adjusted his medal of Honor choker and sighed once more. He pulled back his shoulders and pulled down on his jacket. It would do —no use. More

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