Jay smiled. "I still have my 1992 Stanley Cup giveaway shirt from theGiant Eagle," which he pronounced 'Iggle.' "Can't wait for Sunday." Excuse my ignorance, but what's a Pen?" Esme said."Pittsburgh Penguins. Hockey," Jay said."Is that what you were watching the other day at the bar?" Yup," he said happily."I wouldn't have guessed you a sports fan, certainly not something asmainstream as hockey."He smirked. "So much for your journalistic intuition then. So, whereare you from, Esme?" Crewe." Which is where," he said, goading her."South of Manchester. Southeast of Liverpool." And what do they do in Crewe," he said, teasing her while Jason andFreya laughed."Trains, and they made Rolls Royces, Bentleys only now," she said,bracing herself for the inevitable question that everyone in Americaasked.Jason said it first, Freya knowing not to ask. "Did you have one?"Esme smiled, a bored smile. She had promised to be nice. "I wish. Theemployee discount wasn't that good." Your old man worked for. He just chuckled, and patted the seat beside him, asking me to move closer. Almost as if on auto pilot his arm went around me, and his hand caressed my breast. My nipples were still painfully hard and pressing against my sweat shirt, and I realized I was nowhere near satisfied with the orgasms that I had on my fingers earlier. I slid my hand up his leg, and let it rest on his cock, and was pleasantly surprised that he was still hard.He dropped his hand to my lap, and to the crotch of the unyielding jeans, letting it rest there; it felt like it belonged. He kept his hand between my legs, moving his fingers slightly against my swollen, throbbing, pussy lips, till we got to my house. He parked across the street from my house. Rodger said we should sit and talk a while. I agreed but needed to tell my parents that I was home. Most of all I needed to get rid of these damn jeans. It took literally seconds to say hi to my dad and step mom, and change in to a skirt and halter top. I left.
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