"Excuse me, are you Sara Blum?"I looked up to see a mousy brownish haired blonde in her mid-forties standing in front of me. Her stylish hair and clot...hing spoke of money and class, skirt and jacket by Chloe, shoes and purse by Versace. However, her mannerisms and body language told me she was uncomfortable in her surroundings, reclusive and very much a shy housewife type. An English rose supplanted in an American metropolis made of concrete and steel. She looked and acted very nervous, almost. Through the thin walls and the equally as fragile door I can hear the other occupants of the plane laughing and chattering. Life goes on as normal and everyone seems to be completely unaware about the fact that my boyfriend is currently going down on me a mere few feet away. In the bathroom of their private jet. And when he removes one hand from my ass in order to slip three fingers inside of me and aggressively thrusts them in and out as his tongue continues it’s delicious torture, all thought. Or perhaps a whole series of stories." I don't mind giving you some background information on the lesbian or cop communities." The man beamed, and Hawk held up her hand. "However, before you write a single word that even vaguely resembles my life, even if you change the names, I want to read some of your stuff. And, even if I do agree after that, I want to have a chance to approve what you write first."The man nodded and looked at me curiously as I took a seat. "Of course. I'd never write. I wasoccasionally inserting my fingersa little into her t-shirt collar. Herbreathing became a little hard,and I could see her lovely titsgoing up and down, touching mythighs. I was so happy to knowthat she was enjoying what Iwas doing to her. It was veryhard for me not to just put myhand inside her shirt and get atouch of her tits, but somehow, Icontrolled myself.I had decided to go very slow,and not waste the chance. I slidmy hand through her shirt collarand caressed her nakedshoulders,.