Every now and again, you just gotta switch jobs or you go nuts.Every now and again, you just gotta switch jobs or you go nuts. That happens to me every 2 years or so. My last job used to be with a defense firm here on Long Island (New York). No names, but if you've been following the economic news of the Northeast USA, the place figures prominently when they discuss companies that are going under. Anyway, a few days before I left, I was talking to Irene in the elevator. Now, Irene is what would be defined as a really "hot" woman. She's a little shorter than I am...say about 5'6", but she always wears these really tall heels, so she tends towards eye level on a practical basis. She's a fairly dark-complexioned young woman, of Latin American descent, just about 26, and _really_ well put-together. Her tits range from large to huge, depending on your definition, and her ass is, as they say in Brooklyn, to die for. She's got long, dark curly hair, and a pair of lips that just _beg_ to have a stiff prick slipped between them (later, later...don't get your keyboard all messy just yet!). She had heard that I was leaving and asked, in a tone of mock upset, "But who's going to draw my poster when _I_ leave?" (One of my unofficial duties was to draw all the posters for going away luncheons; I volunteered to do it after I got sick of all the PC-generated cutesy _garbage_. |