The busty young blonde had been tormenting her date for hours. Shortly after they had arrived at the dance, she had whispered to him, “I’m not wea...ing any panties,” and had been delighted at how he had started and stared at her. From then on until the end of the evening, every ten or fifteen minutes, she had whispered erotic torments to him. When they started dancing slowly and his hands brushed her ass, Taylor had said, “I’m not wearing pantyhose, just stockings.” For the rest of the night, it. Alison was thinking of leavingthe lounge. The television monitor with the schedules of arrivals anddepartures showed that she still had almost an hour to kill. That, plusthe fact that the weird little man that had been following her, was stillstanding around outside the bar, caused her to stay and order anothermargarita when the bartender asked if she wanted a refill.Alison realized that she should not have had the second margarita as shewalked toward the gate where Clare was to disembark from. More

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