The night was long as were my glances at the small firm mounds of her youthful breasts. She danced and whirled, drank and swirled with her would be lovers who would cop a feel or press her close only for her to turn away with feigned disinterest. She was a real player, and called herself Britney in the game of names. How her hosts longed for her, and how she desired them while hating herself and the desires she repressed with laughter and liquor. As night turn into morning, her coordination faltered and soon she found herself where she had tried so hard not to be; alone. I watched her intently, sipping on my club soda and smiling ever so pleasantly at the over done waitress who mistakenly assumed my desire for her was blind to the cellulitis that engulfed her sagging skin. The air was thick with smoke and the throbbing bass guitar, as the crack head guitarist tried to make his melodies worth the applause from the drunk over in the far corner. It was time I made my move.Sliding into. Emma sat there with the mask between her legs smiling as she saw how desperate he was to pick the locks.?How’re you doing?? Emma asked.Another five minutes and the padlocks were still firmly locked. Emma pulled the keys out of her pocket and ran them up and down her legs.?You’re running out of time,? she warned.Emma had had her fun, she picked up the instructions that had come with the padlocks and read out the selling material about how the security features. On hearing this, Brad dropped the wire on the floor, ?You bitch? he wanted to say had he not had a mouth full of her underwear.Emma giggled. ?It was so cute seeing you try to get out? she purred as she tucked the keys safely back inside her pocket.It wasn’t until Emma returned at lunchtime that she finally unlocked the padlocks and let Brad out of the mask. Brad seemed totally disorientated and it took a few minutes until he spoke.?You bitch,? he finally said.?Come here,? she ordered.She reached through the bars and pulled him.
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