What you do in your bedroom. It's not any of my business." But it shocked you."Martine sighs."Look, let's drop it, can't we?" First tell me, Martine. ...We're friends. I want to know." "Yes, it shocked me. But not the way you think." No? Then how?"Martine sips her margarita again. A couple of men come out on the patio to smoke, but they move away from the two women. Martine thinks for a moment longer, and Ann is silent. Finally,"How good is our friendship? I want to know." You know. Martine!. She would have to earn it. When the afternoon rolled around and it was time for our weekly meeting, I noticed that she had the same number of buttons, but I didn’t see a bra. My attention went instead to her nipples, pressed hard against the fabric of her shirt. Her Frappuccino was waiting for her. She leaned forward to place her laptop in front of me on my desk, taking the opportunity to let me gaze at her tits. I could see her darkened areolae and pointy nipples swinging freely. As I already. I rolled her over onto her back, grabbed her ankles, and spread her legs in the air for a view of my playground. Seriously bushy and glistening wet gash.Although my fingers were still greasy from the massage oil, I had a tube of lube ready nearby. I squeezed some on my middle and forefinger and went right in. She spread her legs wide in the air and pulled her pussylips apart for my tongue. I started licking her clit slowly as a finger slid in each of her holes. I kept working my digits ever. The Library Cafe was like a second home to her. Everything delighted her senses: the smell of brewed coffee, the soothing sounds of old time jazz melodies enhanced by all the natural wood decor and detailing, and the sight of rows upon rows of books lining almost every wall from floor to ceiling.It just seemed right to be there, a place of solitude and patience.She made her way toward the backroom to put away her purse. As she passed the counter, she greeted the owner of the cafe, Mr. Danzig..