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Just go in and have a bite to eat and go home (I was starving...for food, I mean). 3. Go in and be ready for whatever the trucker was planning on doing. Just after seven-thirty, I got out of my car, deciding to go into the restaurant to eat dinner and see what happened from there. I walked into the diner, which was almost empty, with only a couple customers...one being the black trucker. He didn't even look up from his meal as he said amused, "I knew you'd show up." I froze as the moment of truth was at hand, I could quickly turnaround and leave and pretend none of this had happened, before anything really happened...or I could go and sit down. After only a brief hesitation, I walked over and joined him. "Hungry?" He asked, his plate almost done. "I am," I agreed, grabbing a menu. "The only thing on the menu for you is cock," he said, matter-of-factly. I didn't say anything, as I looked over to see if anyone had heard what he said to me. The waitress was no longer in the room and the. As we pulled into the parking lot and I saw the building for the first time, I was amazed how much work it needed on just the outside, broken windows, and graffiti covered the building.“Home sweet home! Or, at least it will be once it’s done.” Mark said as we entered the studio.Looking around the lower level of the building, which is going to be his office, and studio. There are construction supplies everywhere and the place is a mess, but it looks like it’s going to be a fine studio.“Want to see the apartment?” he asked seductively.“Sure, lead on.” I replied following him.We walked up a flight of stairs and into his apartment, which was about 90% complete.“Wow! This place is twice as better as my place, and yours is not even done yet.” I said impressed.“Another few weeks, I’ll be able to move out of James and Jennifer’s home and be here.” He said.“You know James and Jennifer?” I asked confused.“Yeah, James is my cousin.” He replied.“Oh, ok.” I replied.Looking around his apartment, I.
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I didn’t sleep much that night, and when I did I saw Steve’s face in my dreams. The next week or so was difficult for me. Every time George looked at me I wondered if he could see it in my face, smell Steve on me, sense that his wife of more than 20 years had acted like a whore with a man young enough to be her son. I didn’t see Sharon or Steve that week, and I didn’t expect to. I secretly hoped he’d ‘phone, but dreaded that he would. I found myself wondering more than once whether it had really meant anything to him, or whether he’d just seen an opportunity to have it away with his girlfriend’s mother, and grabbed it. On Saturday – just over a week after my knee-trembler in the alley – I was putting a load into the washing machine when the front doorbell rang. I opened the door – to stare straight into Steve’s face. God, he looked lovely. I felt my pussy twitch at the sight of him. I stood with my mouth open, as he said, ‘Hi Jill, is George in?’ I managed to stammer ‘No, he isn’t.’.

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