Maybe she was French, but he hoped she was Japanese.He caught a good look at the woman’s profile and saw the makeup. He guessed her to be over t...irty-five. She was small and dark, but he still could not tell whether she was Japanese. This woman must have been a real beauty in her day, he thought.He calmly decided to find out if she was Japanese or not. He chorded into the first minor chords of China Nights, a. tune any Japanese girl would know.Nothing registered. But she looked around,. His hands roamed over my body, unbuttoning my dress shirt, opening my belt and fly. Here out in public, where several office building towered over the parking garage, I undressed like the most giddy school girl. His hands ran over my abs and the defined muscles of my arms and legs. I was proud of the time I spent in the guy. “You’re beautiful, I’m so glad we ran into each other.” I blushed at the compliment and I could feel my penis starting to rise. He led me over to the hood of my Mustang. More

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