” It was eight o’clock when we left the pub. We both jumped into Steve’s car and we were off to meet Brigitte. We had not got out of the car park when Steve’s mobile rang. He looked at it. “It‘s Brigitte,” he said, “why don’t you answer it and entertain her!” he exclaimed. “Steve’s phone,” I said as I picked it up and pushed the button, “this is Dave speaking…” I waited for the response. She asked if I was coming home. “Yes, I am,” I replied, “and what‘s more I have your husbands cock in my hands while he’s driving…he is such a horny bastard isn‘t he,” I suggested, She was a bit dumbstruck at that but she recovered quickly to suggest to me what I should do with him, how I should put the phone down and suck him off in the car, and that I shouldn’t bring him home until he’s cum all down my throat. “Why is that,” I replied. She then said that she could have me all to herself when we got there. “I hope you‘re suitably dressed,” I questioned her. She said that she would be by the time we. "I--I wonder if you might answer a few questions for me," he managed to stammer after an uncomfortable moment."Certainly," Shalla grinned, sensing that there was some money to be made here if he played his cards right. Truly this was his week of "bonne chance" and rebirth. "Anything that Shalla does not know about Marseille, Monsieur, is not worth knowing." I would like some information about a girl," Kevin said softly, his voice lowered in suspicion of the unsavory looking character standing in front of him."Ah, but you have come to the right place," Shalla answered in a low confidential voice so endemic to pimps. "I can arrange any type you want, Monsieur, or any color. And it will not be too expensive. You have come to the right man." I--I didn't mean that kind of woman," Kevin quickly corrected. "I mean a woman that was registered here at your hotel. A young American one."Shalla's grin suddenly faded as the recognition flickered through his mind. He suddenly recalled the cable the.
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