Right there, practically at eye level, was her mature, hairy, black pussy. Bob was frozen in his tracks. He dropped the pen, sincerely and honestly by accident, but his lingering stare at the heaven between her thighs was anything but accidental. He wanted to ram his face in there and start licking and to hell with the consequences. He didn't of course. He didn't do anything but stare. He knew she saw him staring and he felt ashamed and embarrassed for not being able to look away but he couldn't. The president of the bank could have called his name in that moment and Bob would have said, "Yeah, yeah, gimme a minute."She extended her hand and he placed the pen gently in her palm. Again, she didn't even make the civil pretense of saying thank you and that fact made Bob's cock stir in his sensible and boring suit pants. She was toying with him but he was too inept and socially immature to respond the way any normal male would so he just stood there, words frozen in his brain, unable to. ‘And he said, ‘I’m not so sure about the sweet bit,” Penny said. ‘But she assured me, she could be very sweet,’ Jack said, putting down Penny’s cup of chamomile tea. ‘And I kissed him, and I’ve been his ‘Sweet Bit’ ever since,’ Penny finished the tale. ‘Good night,’ Rosy said, struggling to her feet. Chapter 3 Rosy again checked the beans, they were simmering, filling the entire bar with the savory smell. Two dancers stood near the small stage, waiting for the first customers to come in. A third girl waited to serve the food. Rosy tightened her face as she heard the rumble of motorcycles approaching. She looked over at the three girls. ‘Remember what I said about them,’ Rosy called out. ‘Yes ma’am,’ Paula Lambert smiled. Little John tried to slam the door open, but there was a hydraulic spring that prevented the door from slamming open. Rosy had installed the simple device to prevent anyone being struck by the door if they were exiting and someone was entering. Little John glared.
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