. My Boss, the Chef, was a veteran scumbag, a staggering alcoholic who only got up only to place a few inventory orders and then fiddle in his office...before retiring to his cabin on the hillside to drink himself into oblivion and fuck his pet hostess of the season. His main culinary techniques were to drink stolen beer, avoid the kitchen, and hope it didn't burn down around us. I realized at some point that was indeed my role, and demanded more money. This worked well, until we too often. She parted her legs slightly to help me with access. I molded her flesh between my fingers working out the knots and began to move higher knowing I would soon reach her bikini bottoms. I slowed the massage and worked my fingers gently on either side of her thigh and felt the heat emanating from between her legs. Not yet touching the fabric of her bathing suit I gently moved my hands up a bit further right to where her right cheek met her thigh. As I slid my fingers up past the crease at the. More

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