I mean Snapple!” Mrs. Bresh gave me a bemused look and adjusted her top. I felt a foot brush against my shin. I knew that it wasn't my mother's b...cause she was getting my drink. The foot lingered there, seemingly waiting for me to move. Then it moved slowly up my shin to my thigh. The toes flexed against my muscular thigh. I looked at Mrs. Bresh who was looking at my mother. She adjusted her chair without moving her foot away from my thigh. She leaned slightly over the table affording me a. In night-mode now with no lights on it showed a silent, empty room. I resisted the temptation to call Pat back as I knew she probably wouldn’t answer.++++Next morning was a rush to pack, have breakfast and check out of the hotel before my last day of meetings. After which I was going straight to the airport to catch the ‘red-eye.’ I hated the flight but with a follow-up meeting with my boss the next day before she went on vacation it was a case of needs must.++++I didn’t have either the time or. More

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