That shut him up. There is nothing like friends in high places.Four days later, I made the drive south from Hooksett, alone this time. Because of the bridge under construction, traffic in Manchester was down to a one-lane crawl. Nashua was starting to look better and better. In south Boston, we met in the now familiar bar. For once I had food. The sandwich was exactly why I do not eat at bars.Ms. Conor told me that she needed a ballpark figure. Uh uh. I needed to know what she could do, before we worked on how much. We argued a bit. When I picked up my briefcase, she looked at me sideways. She asked me if I had really gone to Beacon Hill. I told her I didn't know. It was just an address on the GPS. She was frowning as I left.Going north, I got off the main road to take a look at Nashua. It was not unlike New Jersey, rolling hills full of trees. The small-city-next-to-the-Big-City vibe was almost identical. There was history here, as with most of New England. However, most was further. " Just my jeans," she corrected him. "Not my ass.Her eyes smoldered, and she untied her shirt, swinging it aside to reveal, her tight, full tits."I don't mind a little grime, sometimes," she said in a low whisper. "I don't mind getting dirty.He faced her, his cock lifting inside his pants. His eyes burned on her perfect, unblemished tits, her stiff nipples. She croaked a finger at him, and Jack closed the short distance between them. She parted her knees, pulling him between them. She opened his fly and pulled his cock out. It was swelling and her fingers stroked it into full, beautiful hardness."Touch me," she hissed huskily, gripping his cock hard. "Touch my fits, Jack." My hands-" Fuck the grease!" she yelped. "I want it on me! Feel my tits with your greasy hands!"Jack cupped her tits, massaging them, watching her nipples slide between his fingers. Kathy whimpered and she pulled at his cock desperately. The feel of his hands, the grease making her tits slippery, sent shivers of odd.
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