Your erotic stories

The first thing that struck me was fear. A chill went through my spine as the frozen girl was rolled into the dining room on a wheel furnished table with a white linen tablecloth that reached almost to the floor. The procedure was slow; two waitresses pushed the table until it fitted right in front of me, sitting on a chair, napkin in knee.

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The phone woke me from a focused stupor as my secretary let me know a call was on the line. Talking to whomever it was on the phone, anyone, would be a welcome relief from reading through the boring minutiae of the commercial pre-lease agreement in my hands. "Paul Sturner on the phone for you, Max." Paul Sturner? Now there was a blast from the past. Paul and I had worked together in the mid 90s when he was still running a large construction concern in midtown.

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