She was wolfing one of them down before we made it back to the highway.“Gracias, senor.”“De nada.”I let her finish her meal before my next ste.... Cellphone. Dial Carlita.This is one of those moments.The phone rang, I visualized the face that went with the voice.“Carlita, mi Corazon, this is really a strange call. I am giving my phone to this young girl. She speaks only Spanish. Talk to her. And Lita? I am only trying to act properly.”“My Dave?”“Carlita, I bought her from a bad man for two. “And I was trying to understand where the information came from.” “About Kayla?” “Yes.” He look at the computer and then back at his daughter. “Is she your BFF?” Chelsea laughed. “Oh, dad. You’re funny. Yes, she’s my best friend forever.” “So she can keep secrets?” “Yes.” Chelsea got nervous again. What was THAT question about. “Is there some secret?” “Not yet…” he clicked another key and looked at the screen. “But there might be” “What kind of secret?” Chelsea was feeling cold. She didn’t plan. When I got home I found a note in my apartment that was put through the letterbox, which was weird because I life on the third floor and have a mailbox on the ground floor, I folded the note open and saw that it came from my neighbour below, Foziah. Foziah is a single girl of Moroccan descent, living alone, in her late twenties, slim, nice head and always dressed modern, and although she's Muslim she doesn't wear any concealing clothes or headgear which would have been a shame.The note said. Theres a price&hellip, I said. I mentioned something about a standard fee for such clothing. She smiled. Oh? she replied, and whats that? I looked up at her, calm as day, but aching within. A taste. She tilted her head and rolled her eyes slightly in mock subjugation. Oh well, if I really have to. She moved forward then, leaning her blue panties toward me. I promptly let her shirt hang in the mouth of the dryer as I smiled and reach out with my fingers and pulled aside her panty enough to see.
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