I got in the elevator and hit each of the buttons. First floor, nothing. Second, the same. Third was empty too. When the doors opened on the fourth fl...or, I saw the guys bringing stuff into the double-doors of the office right next to the elevator.. Cool. Suite 400.I jabbed the button for the lobby and when I got out I checked the directory. Suite 400… A BPO company. Good. I’ve been in the business of dealing in stolen goods for awhile now, and this looked like the Mother Lode. I looked around. He was sitting on the balcony of the penthouse he’d been renting for the past three weeks, enjoying the sun setting over the London horizon with a generous glass of Scotch. He’d only been awake for an hour, after a long night drinking, playing cards, and allowing himself to be ravaged by an exquisitely tipsy Miss Weston. (Or was it Walton?) He’d been invited to dine with his good friend Peter in two hours’ time, but was in no state to be thinking about getting ready just yet. The Scotch was. Again she exhaled. I looked over at Miss Jones. She was looking at her laptop screen, completely oblivious to what we were doing. I then felt and saw her put her own hand on the side of her waist. She pulled at something and I felt the thin material pull away into my hand. I pulled my hand from under her skirt and in it was a pair of black bikini bottoms. The tassels at the sides were undone. I lifted them to my face and smelt her deep aroma. They smelt of sex and pussy. I quickly put them in. I opened my passenger for Murphy and she smiled and said, “Oh, a gentleman.” “A gentleman with a lady,” I replied with a grin. Driving up Interstate 55, we chatted like magpies and soon arrived at the John Hancock building and hopped the elevator to the Signature Room on the 95 th floor. I am not taking this sexy woman to an Olive garden! We both ordered sea scallops which were excellent. The view of Chicago and the lake is breathtaking, but not nearly as exciting as the woman across the table.
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