Pushing on it, she confirms that it's as hard as it looks. “Good morning,” she whispers, “... wood.” Encircling it gently with her thumb and f...refinger, she giggles once more. “Good – morning wood! Hee hee.”“Mmm, sorry,” her lover says sleepily. “Happens to the best of us.”“Don't be sorry.” She pets it with just a couple fingers. “This is the best of you.”Yes, she is aware that was an incredibly sexist comment, saying out loud that the best part of a member of the opposite sex is the excitement. Taking a deep breath, she inhales the pungent stale warm air. Record highs for this year have people grateful that just a small sweater is all they need while outside. She smiles as she starts to walk and notices some kids having fun up the street. The party is being held at a small convention center about three blocks from her house. Lucy picks up the pace, the darkness surrounding her; everything suddenly seems eery. She looks up to concentrate on the night sky as she walks, seeing the moon. She knew how to earn a living as a massage ther****t, and she had a portfolio of high-profile clients who valued both her professional prowess and discretion. Its oriental character always made it distant and discret, according to the Japanese tradition that immerses the feelings of the people, hidden in a code of conduct. She always told us about the situation of women in Japan, educated for the submission to man and the rules of the family. Her husband had a cosmetics business, a line of man. I made you do it." I reached out, unable to stop myself, and placed my hand on her breast, giving it a squeeze. "Ok, but now it's over. We've had our fun, but we're both married. We can't be doing this." She almost sounded like she was trying to convince herself. I didn't answer her. I wasn't about to agree to that statement. "Whew," she finally said, rolling her eyes upward, "It was really nice." She took my hand in hers and walked through the house with me. "You looked like you enjoyed it.
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