Indian Call Girl Part2

"Ahh! "He particularly hated banging his numb knuckles against the rusty red tyre rims of the old Peugeot 405. The smarting skin and mounting inner unpleasantness were just the beginning of the long Christmas. He spread over his lean muscled frame over the hood of the car and scrubbed the roof and windscreen.It was early morning and his only company was the sound of splashing, the lazy tweets of a disinterested bird and the crunching of his slippered feet on the gravel of the drive way as he washed the car that would take every body away. Everybody but him.He clanged the metal bucket back under the antique brass tap for a refill scratched his crotch through his worn shorts and idly watched the morning break over the gleaming dripping car as his thoughts echoed and swirled like the water hitting the bottom of the bucket. He would be missing the best Christmas holiday of his life.Weeks before, he had failed his grade exams by a small margin that his father then solemnly deemed. He never got work done with her around. He needed to see flesh he decided, he also needed lunch, trying to behave himself was giving him hunger pains for more than just food. There was a new strip club close that had been boasting a wonderful grill. Sounded like just what he needed today.He walked in and a little blonde seated him near the stage. She smiled sweetly as she handed him his menu and took his drink order. He grinned at all the waitresses in the little French maid outfits. Very cleverly designed to show everything yet cover, perfectly sheer. He tipped his waitress a twenty when she came back with his drink sliding his hand over her firm rump and giving it a little squeeze she giggled for him and asked if he was ready to order. He resisted the temptation to ask if she was on the menu, instead he settled for a nice steak rare. She smiled and wiggled her ass for him as she sauntered off. “Yes” he thought “this is exactly where I should have lunch today.”He was intrigued when.
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