I heard her protests "No, I'm a married woman...it's not right... don't..." Both hands were working her tits now I saw his hand unbuttoning her blouse... then reaching inside her brassiere. Jo's skirt was hiked up even higher as she struggled to get free, but now I could hear her moaning softly. I knew that her resolve to fight off this good looking salesman was waning and that she was beginning to enjoy herself sexually with him. I was intrigued with the idea of a complete stranger trying to. Grace into an armchair and raised the injured ankle on an ottoman. Under instruction from Mrs. Grace I found some towels and wetting them began to apply them to the ankle that was now swollen and discoloured. Following further instructions I made the tea and sat down opposite her. There had been no time for social niceties up to that point, but now Mrs. Grace said, ‘Your name is Trent, isn’t it?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Your mother has talked about you to me. I suppose we should have got to know each other. More

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