The next time I bumped into Misty, she was using the stage name, Ms T as she flung her body around a fire pole in half a thong bikini, and did lap dances for twenty bucks a pop at the Pussy Cat’s Palace. ‘Mind if I sit with you?’ Her voice just as sultry, and girlish as it had ever been. ‘Sure Misty, let me buy you a drink,’ I replied, saying her name the way I remembered, and not with the T emphasized. She moved in right next to me, her perfume surrounding me even if she couldn’t. A bikini. "Me too" he said as he started to unbutton and unzip her jeans. He slid his hand into the woman's white cotton panties and rubbed her pussy. He worked his fingers into her for a few minutes. "You're lucky I don't have more time" he said to the unconscious woman as he pulled his hand out of her panties. He washed his hands and left the room to get his assistant to proceed with the operation. As I was leaving that day the doctor asked me to meet him at his house around 9:00, he said we needed. “Can we meet for coffee on Saturday, or would that ruin your Valentine’s day?” Roger asked.“I don’t mind meeting on Valentine’s day,” she said, firmly.“Great. What about the kids, will they be okay?” Roger asked with a touch of concern.“No ... no problem with the kids. They’ll be with their father this weekend,” she said.“Okay. Can you make it at ten o’clock?”“Yeah, I can make it at ten,” Jessica answered.“All right, I’ll see you at ten this Saturday at Starbucks on Peachtree,” Roger. We had been best friends for 1/3 of our lives. "Fuck him harder baby." "Make him beg for it to stop." I was in such intense pain. I just wanted it to stop. I heard Tom ask me if I was his bitch and in a week response and in between labored breaths I said "yes." I actually started crying. "Please stop Tom, please stop. I"m so sorry I flirted with your wife. Please just let me leave." I think Carrie actually did fell sorry for me. In restrospect I think she knew what had to happen and then once.
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