Just then the waiter came over offering more drinks. Tom ordered for the both of them as Lisa was working up a bit of a sweat. Tom released the button...until the waiter returned. Lisa’s eyes widen, her heart thudding, pulse racing on the brink of orgasm. “Everything OK madam?” the concerned waiter asks“Yes Darling, whatever’s the matter?” Tom says with a wicked grin. “Just… a back spasm” she says desperately. The waiter seems satisfied and walks away to serve other tables. Shortly after he goes. I don't think there's a restaurant or bar in Hollywood that will admit her any more. Secretaries at all the big media corporations are wise to her voice and hang up on her automatically. And still she persists. She waits outside the bars for the chance to collar a network big wig, outside Western Avenue massage parlours to tug on the coat-tails of TV station managers, vice presidents, camera men, for God's sake.I don't understand it. She can't think that I need to pester the ass-holes for. More

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