Dear Fondled Femme Fatale,

Oh how I would have liked to rub my hands up the inside of your thighs, spreading oil out to your edges. And yes, I considered presenting myself as your masseur if you’d asked, but I wasn’t sure I could pull it off without giving myself away, and then I’ve promised you to remain a tall, dark stranger. In the end you seem to have chosen quite well on your own. Continue reading The Bar Game Experiment →