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She sits down, trying to quell the sharp butterflies in her stomach. Becca, in her work outfit, sits down across from her awkwardly. Stacy watches her friend carefully place her bottom onto the seat. "Are you alright?" Stacy worries. "Oh, yes, I'm fine. I just… never mind. She umm, should be here soon," Becca states, a slight look of distress on her face. "I just want to get this over with," Stacy admits, admiring the way Becca's skin seems to glow. "She likes to make me wait," Becca explains, looking around. "Well, I'm nervous enough as it is. This is just making it worse," Stacy sighs. Becca smiles, "I'm sure that's exactly her intention." Stacy squints in disapproval. Becca jumps up straight as she notices someone coming through the front doors. Stacy turns to look. Becca doesn't say anything, but Stacy knows who it is. Miss Cara's beautiful eyes draw in the attention of everyone with a pulse in the restaurant. Stacy can't help but stare at the woman's almost black-cherry. I already knew Mom was mad so that didn't mean much either. I was about to return to my room when I noticed Mom's hand slip under the sweater on the side closest to me to scratch an itch. A moment later, her hand returned, and then again a moment after that. This time, Mom itched so hard that the sweater fell off her shoulder and to her side. I noticed immediately that the material of the turtleneck, soft as it was, settled very closely over Mom's breast, beautifully molding its sculptured, braless form. All motivation to leave dissipated. Instead, I watched Mom's breast jostle about with each breath for the next three or four minutes, especially where her nipple protruded under the white turtleneck. The more I watched, the better defined it seemed to become and I wondered if that was because Mom was breathing a little faster and thus stretching the material more. Was she reading a racy book? I strained to see the title but couldn't.Mom suddenly raised her eyes from her book and.
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It wasn't a new idea by any means but it was new to the area and I didn't have any competition. It's a different kettle of fish now. You must now have four or five pubs within five miles of you trying to do that and generally doing it quite successfully like Jim." So how did you kick it off?" asked James."Well, the most important thing was to find a good cook and, to be honest, I poached my first. I was hoist in the end though," he chuckled. "He got to reckon he was God's gift to the catering business and left me after three years for a big hotel in Bournemouth as a sous-chef. He earned more than I paid him but he was no longer his own boss. He asked me for his job back eighteen months later but by then I'd found your friend, Gareth, and he, poor fool, has stayed with me ever since other than that brief period when he worked for Jim but that was really only while he was courting Mattie." He's the one who taught me everything I know and got me thinking beyond the pale," said James.

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