Then there was the play that never was. I thought I’d written a masterpiece that was destined for the West End, but Peter, my director, told me it w...uldn’t even reach Southend. I thought I’d written a love story filled with pathos and dramatic tension: he said it was dross. And finally there was Winners. Me: Hi, Peter, it’s me Joanne. Peter: Hi Jo, Lovely weather. (3) Phew, he was in a good mood. Me: If you’re a duck. Peter: To what do I owe the pleasure? Me: Peter, you know my play, Winners?. As we walked on, his hand moved to my ass. I swished my hips a little. Encouraging him. Enticing him, I hoped. I had an erection trapped in my panties and ached for him to touch it.I didn't have to wait long. He stood behind me as I fumbled with the card key for my room. I dropped it and bent down to retrieve it. He put his hands on my hips and humped against my ass. As I straightened up, one hand went to the front and he rubbed my hard cock through my jeans. The moment my room door closed, he. More

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