She was becoming more emblazoned with each passing moment. Running a hand over her own breast, down her stomach. Pushing her mound against her case. A... Euston station she gave up. She took one long look at the source of her torture and left the train, swallowed by the throng of people mulling about their business, completely oblivious of her discomfort. Slowly, as she walked the feelings began to fade. She had just about recovered completely when she felt the heated gaze of someone following. Rather, I had to decide on an answer. And that required me to consider a different question. Was she asking me which of the two guest rooms she should head for or was she including the master bedroom in her inquiry? Or was she daring enough to want to use a different bedroom every night for as long as she would spend with me here in the City where damn near every street was named Peachtree? I knew instantly the answer that I wanted to give, but that of course would take me back to the prior. More

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