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He felt like he was looking in a reflection, in a weird way. Strange how a young, attractive, black womans face could mirror his own. It had something to do with the look in the eye. Danielle knew that he knew. There was something about him. She felt she connected with the man in front of her in some way. He had on his shirt and tie (like always). His eyes had an understanding in them, but there was a difference too, some sort of revulsion. She stood up. He wasnt going to report her. He was her. Yeah, okay. I had fun with Jamie. So what? What are you going to do about it? I dont think youre taping me. What do you have on me? Im pretty sure you dont have anything. Yeah I do, John said, standing up. Probably close to a hundred pounds. Danielle understood immediately. There was a lust growing in his eyes. But it was not friendly at all. A power struggle was about to take place. She wasnt going to scream, but she heard herself say she would, and instantly regretted it. She would do no. This year, it is the first time that the spouses are guest (s) at the dinner of the last evening. The seminar is held in a beautiful mansion, close to Toulouse. Murielle, my wife, arrives at 8 PM when we are having drinks. Although it is quite cold for the season, she wears as usual a short beige colored skirt, clear heeled shoes and a light orange jacket. She is cute and elegant. Yet, I am surprised to discover that under the jacket she is wearing her white bodice. I must admit that unless you’re told so, one does not notice that it is a bodice. She has a lot of success and is immediately surrounded by several men. Jealous as I can be, I remain close to her and I catch repeatedly looks to her cleavage or legs. It also gets irritating me when I see that certain movements of Murielle move aside parts of her jacket revealing the top of her bodice, which is see-through, hence giving a nice view on her breast. I angrily tell her that she could have dressed more soberly! I have other.
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