“Thank you.”Finally we came to her car, a dark blue Volkswagen station wagon. “My name is Roger Bancroft,” I said.“I am Laurel. Laurel Armin...ton.”“May I call you sometime?”She opened her purse, retrieved a business card, and wrote on the back of it by the light of a street lamp. “This is my phone number at home. If a man answers he is my father. I will have told him about you.”“When may I call, Laurel?”“Anytime you wish, Roger.” After smiling at me she turned around, got into her car, started. To say Carl was sexually conservative would be a damn lie. He is the dirtiest horniest guy I've ever met whose notches on the bed post must be into triple digits. He was pretty tall at six two and he had dark hair and a well-kept beard, an all-round good looking guy. Melony rolled herself over on the table and hung her head over the edge of the table into Carl’s lap, still moving to the music her tits bounced and allured Carl's hands, but just before he could grip them she moved away teasing. More

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