He knew. He knew about my searches which meant he knew I’d used the words “daddy cock” or “mommy asshole” or “dirty daughter” or “slut...y son.”I thought about showing him the angry part of me, but the way he was looking at me, with such kindness and understanding, I couldn’t. And I couldn’t show him my horny part, no way. So I went with shame. “I’m so sorry,” I muttered. My hands went over my eyes. “I messed up. Did you see exactly what I was looking at?”“I did,” he said. “And you have to know,. I feel I am justified for my selection.There a table away from me is a man; probably forty; red tie; dark suit; pen on top of his black leather bound notepad. The interviewer is doing most of the talking. He is smiling and moving his arms. He laughs a lot.I sit down; but she is facing away from me. I can't see her face. What I see seems to be a mixed bag of impressions. The woman seems to be tall; as far as women go; about 5'-6"; not much over 105 pounds. She has a bluish gray cashmere sweater.. More

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