»I am sorry, ma’am.« the barkeep answered, »We do not serve cocktails, just wine. May I offer you a glass of–«»You got coffee?« she cut him ...off.»Of course, ma’am.«»So you also have milk, right. Get a hold of a bottle of vodka, then mix me a White Russian.«The barkeep stared at the woman, unsure about what to say. A White Russian was mixed with coffee liqueur instead of coffee. And a good one with cream instead of milk.»Allez!« the woman said and shot a fiery look at him.Of course, they had. I felt his right hand rest on my hip for a moment and then slide up to cup my left breast over my blouse and sports bra.My nipple instantly became hard, seemingly trying to bore a hole into his palm. It felt as if a current shot from my nipple straight to my groin. The dreamy kisses continued as he slipped his fingertips through the gaps between the buttons on my blouse."Umm," I moaned at the feel of his fingertips on my skin.Next I felt a button pop and his hand slip inside my blouse and under. .. if my career was going somewhere I wouldn't be assigned to covering JC and high school sporting events. My name is Sam Perlazzo and I am a 38-year-old, almost has-been sport writer for a major West Coast newspaper.I glanced up from my computer screen and saw that there was only one other person in the entire newsroom, a young intern named Janice Watts, the 20-year-old, mostly gofer for the papers Life Style editor, Lisa Pearson. I wondered why someone who wrote stories about family. Entering the kitchen, I looked out and saw Steph stepping out of the pool. She was naked, her copper tone tan glistened as the water cascaded down her well-toned body. I felt my cock jerk at the sight of this gorgeous creature and a drop of precum wet my boxers.I nearly ran to the bedroom and hurried to get my swim trunks on. I stopped in the kitchen and grabbed two glasses along with the pitcher of iced tea from the fridge. Opening the French doors, Steph was lying on the lounge chair, soaking.