This is the euphemism for a room with a girl (not a pillow as the words say!). Paris at the very end of July is a hot and stuffy city without a breath...of breeze. Those who can do so take their holidays at this time. They flee the city for more comfortable places. This particular Tuesday it was particularly hot and stuffy with a definite feeling of approaching thunderstorms in the air. They sat at the bar, silent but glamorous in an understated sort of a way. I had been slicing some. I reached into the fridge and pulled the last one off the top level. Seeing there were no more on the top, Erica knelt down to get one off the bottom. “Making me work for this one, huh?” she said, laughing. “Haha, I am not getting down there,” I said. As if the conversation were naturally leading that way, Erica looked up at me and kissed me gently on the cock through my pants. “Call me tomorrow,” she said, shut the door, and walked back into the party. She never looked back at me. I sat for. More

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