Opening my front door, the cameraman stepped inside with a huge holdall type bag in his right hand. Closing the door we walked toward the room where m...y PC was stationed. Cameraman’s hand massaged my ass cheeks as we entered the room. Opening my legs a little his hand cupped my shaved pussy and gently rubbed my lips. Placing the Holdall bag on the floor, he slipped his left hand inside my robe, holding my Waspied waist and pulled me toward him. Raising my lips to meet his, I circled his mouth. I slipped my old mask over my head and followed him up to the seventh floor. I took a different elevator, so I missed seeing which office he went into, but I waited around until he came out of office #711. There was no name on the door, and the only lettering said "PRIVATE." The window glass in the door was frosted, so I could not see what was going on inside. Well, this called for guile instead of brute force.I had several disguises stored in the trunk of my car, so I had no trouble finding. He carefully withdrew the flint stick and the steel rod from the bag. He placed his hands in what he hoped was the correct spot, squinted his eyes to protect them when the spark flashed and struck the steel to the flint at a sharp angle. As he hoped, a fat spark flared and he saw he was off-center from the wick. He adjusted his hands and struck again. This time it wasn’t as bright, but the spark landed on the oil-soaked fabric. The lamp oil caught quickly and he was able to adjust the flame so. "Hello Mike." I returned his greeting.Turning my attention back to the washing line I was very aware of their eyes boring into my back, I felt annoyed that they had spoilt my peace with their presence. I knew that the gang of boys had been eyeing up my lingerie and as I continued to take the washing from the line I heard their laughter and raucous comments."Bet she looks good in that." One of them roared."Bet she looks better without it." Another retorted."With all her frillies on the line do.