Winston weighed the available choices. He knew his sister well enough to understand that changing her mind was not an option. His parents couldn't bac... out of their trip - a small fortune was tied up in their summer-long plans. His sister's friends were sweet but, frankly, none of them were terribly bright - they were a collection of cute jockettes. They'd be no help either.After circling the predicament, Winston finally let his own self interest tip his decision - he had been looking forward. Three point five million dollars was a lot of money in 1955 and they say money talks and bullshit walks. Things at the table were proceeding when a ravishing young lady stepped to the door.The Maitre'D did his normal bustle and scrape. She spoke to his ear.He raised an eyebrow and said, "Certainement, mademoiselle, s'il vous plaît suivez-moi" Oui," she responded.She followed the Maitre'D and as she walked the restaurant watched.The men dreamed she was walking to them and the women fumed.Grace. Paul watched the two wide eyed girls as he started to unbutton his shirt. That shirt was soon flung off his back and thrown across the room and into a laundry basket on the other side. A pair of socks soon followed that shirt then Paul slowly undid his belt buckle and slithered the belt out from the belt loops. The belt dropped to the floor as Paul turned his back to the girls and unzipped his trousers and pushed them to the floor. Neither girl could see the huge erection tent poling out the. Or at least since she and her friends had booked tickets on the net. Somewhere beyond the crowds was their tent, where they'd spent hours chilling out to the sounds on their CD player, passing spliffs between themselves and giggling at the small things which somehow seemed so hilarious. Paul's tee-shirt with the beer stain on it. So fucking funny! And Sophie's hair. Where had she got those weird beads? But all that hanging around, chilling out, getting sorted, that was behind them. The E was.
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