Mr. Ferguson was the funeral director of the local funeral home, and he and his son were moving around some equipment in a small room that looked more...like a clean garage than the morgue where she'd been last night.Her heart began to race as Mr. Ferguson reached for the buttons on her blouse. This wasn't good. Mr. Ferguson would see her titties. She looked for a way to escape, but found she couldn't seem to get more than five or ten feet from her body.By this time the older man had unbuttoned. I let my fingers trace the firm muscles of his chest and stomach, stopping when I reached his navel. A dark trail of hair descended from the navel, and as I touched it, he let out a deep breath. It was then that I noticed the hard bulge in his trousers. I quickly looked away, but I knew he knew that I had seen it. Taking my chin in his hand, he guided my lips to his once more. As I relaxed into the kiss, he reached around my back and began to unclasp my dress. I felt my cheeks growing hot at. .as my eyes got accustomed to the dim light in the booth, the aroma of cigarette smoke, and the definite telltale aroma of old, dried up sperm (you could see hundreds of ghostly white smears of cum festooning the black painted walls of the booth), held an unmistakable atmosphere of human lust; and it excited me!A moment later, I heard someone else coming down the hallway, and then they paused, right outside of my booth. Then they took the booth next to mine, the one that was connected by the. I was hoping the man Markiska described might drop back in the bar with Wanda. They didn't show. If I hadn't spent quality time with Markiska that afternoon, I would have been tempted to go upstairs with one of the "independents," as Jedrzej called them. Three of the women were there for more than a casual drink. Tootsie was by far the most popular girl propositioning customers. She was young, hardly twenty, buxom, blonde, and flirtatious. Each time going upstairs with a john, she or another.
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