It hadn'tbeen his fault really. She was supposed to be away on a trainingseminar in Amsterdam, but there'd been a bomb scare at the airport andshe'd come home early. Dumb fucking luck. Oliver had begged her tostay, both of them in tears, but she'd kissed him tenderly on the cheekand told him to get some help. He could still hear her sweet, tendervoice now. "I'm not even that angry with you Olly, just sad. But Ican't let you destroy me too." And that was that. Ten years down thedrain.After that, he'd lost all interest in selling second hand cars. Itseemed so pointless. The women stopped swooning around him as he becamemore dishevelled, and he wasn't particularly interested in them anyway.In the space of a year he'd gone from top salesman in the area tobottom of the pile, beaten even by the snotty 20 year old sales kidsthat he used to laugh about. The final straw had come that morningthough, when he'd told an old woman to "make her fucking mind up', asshe dithered about whether to go. Helen and I'll take the other bed, after all, we are sisters," they said and then they both took off their robes and Betty pulled the covers down on their bed as I sat looking at these two sisters. Now, I already knew that were both attractive women. Neither was fifty yet and that, these days, isn't what it was even twenty years ago. The younger sister, Helen, was an ash blond with a nice figure, pretty face and well, what I was seeing now, her standing there in an ivory teddy that came to just above her knees. She was the taller of the two and her legs were beautiful. The nighty was lacy and showed the tops of her breasts which were gently supported in a lacy bodice held by two spaghetti straps. My mother-in-law, Betty, a brunette, was in a white nighty, one that let the darker color of her nipples show through, as they both passed a bottle of body lotion to one another, applying it to their arms and legs, hardly paying attention to me though I was certainly paying attention to.
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