Lorraine was short and stout, with a ruddy complexion and freckles all over her chest. And what a chest. Her breasts hung beneath her colorful sundres... like warm, ripe, brown, freckled mangoes. I had had great trouble averting my gaze from them during our conversation. I had no problem with allowing her to see what I was so interested in, but when her husband looked up, which he did only occasionally, from his big paperback novel, I didn’t want it to be too obvious.I saw the middle-aged couple. "Speak," issued the speaker with a sharp crackle that made Thomas wince. Suddenly his nerve left him, "Who's there? Speak up!" It's Thomas," the boy gabbled in a breathless rush, not sounding at all like he wanted to. But the speaker crackled into a sudden silence and the door latch clicked. Thomas pushed the heavy wooden door open and stepped into a dim lit but well kept hallway. The boy started up the worn carpeted stairs one at a time for three flights until he reached the top floor. The. More

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