“It-it-it—” Rachel swallowed. Pleadingly she looked into the wrinkle-flanked emerald of the experienced lady’s intent eyes. “It must be the company,” she husked out at last.
Lisa’s eyes flashed. Her full lips gave a smile almost tender. She opened her mouth to speak—
The waiter arrived. “Good afternoon, ladies,” said the slender dark man urbanely as he laid down the sweating glasses of water adorned with one wedge of lemon each. “Have you had a chance to look at the menu yet?”
Rachel’s breath snorted faintly as she tried to compose herself, but Lisa’s foot would not stop stroking her down there. It was not enough—oh, not quite, not quite!—to bring her quaking flesh to the culmination it had been urged to crave, but the wicked ministration was so powerfully intimate that she could scarce
