You pay them to leave, wasn’t that the phrase?
Yet as Elaina pulled suspender taut over milky thigh and reattached it to her stocking-top, Jordan throbbed with melancholy at the girl’s imminent hotel room departure.
Within an hour, work and married life would reinstate themselves and Dr Jordan Baskin would count down, in ward and bedroom, to reunion with this slender Parisian goddess. Her whispered endearments, the ministrations of her subtle hands, the suck and caress of that deliriously talented mouth.
All that Jordan’s husband never provided.
She watched, and ached in bliss, and longed for next time.
