Pakistani Journalist From Lahore In Avari Tower...

“Eddie - this is Abby Landis and she’s here to see you about a job,” Patricia told me in her sweet, professional voice, as she slipped me the top sheet from her notepad.The phone was ringing when I spoke, “Abby, it’s my pleasure to meet you. Why don’t we go down to my office so we can talk in private.”She stepped out away from the counter and I got my first good look at her. She’s maybe five-foot-two, blonde hair tied high, in a ponytail – even then – it hangs down past her hip-pockets. Her jeans are skin tight and she’s wearing a long sleeve, white shirt almost identical to mine, except hers has some of the biggest breasts I’ve ever seen on a small woman. She’s carrying a large, rawhide bag slung over her right shoulder.“Mister Masters, I’m so happy to meet you. When Raymond told me he had me a job interview with the Assistant Manager of Master’s Manufacturing, I pictured you as an older man. Patricia told me before you came out, that you’re seventeen. I’ll be nineteen in January and. I watched Boop Three make her way up the stairs. Swaying her hips, I pictured Marci, my Easter bunny boff. Soon she was inching her way down the stairs leaning on the railing with a large bandana cloth. She handed it to Betty One, who held it in front of her mask's eyeholes, folding it into a thin strip of cloth."Upstairs we go," said Betty Two.I followed the three Bettys up the stairs. I couldn't tell if they were even wearing panties. To be naughty, I slipped my hand up Betty Three's leg as I followed her. She jumped like a scared animal. Marci was more skittish than I remembered.Betty One led us into my daughter's bedroom. "Put this on tight. No peeking," said Betty One.I did as asked."Can you see anything?" asked Betty Two."Not a thing. Now what?"Fingers pulling my shorts down were a good clue."You're going to pleasure each of us, one at a time. The idea is for you to figure out who is who, just from touching," said One."And tasting," said Two."And probing?" I asked."Oh yes!.
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