We were under the Kashmiri Woollen blanket, with the chill working on us. My last memory of the unprecedented night was me hugging onto me under the b...anket and sleeping, with my hand hugging her tempting waist and fingers working its way in the ass-crack.My Christmas day began at 9 O’clock with a burning headache. The mixture of last night’s Champagne and beer wasn’t the better option for sure. I woke up and Pragya was sleeping on the other side with her delicious-looking ass call for me.. I'd always found it so false. I know I'm generalisinghere but I never said I was perfect. The culture was probably why I'dnever lasted in the few office jobs I'd had when I was younger. Becominga writer full time had been my priority and I'd spent most of my time inoffices thinking up story ideas rather than working. It never took melong to get fired.As I walked into the lobby of the towering building I started to headover to the elevators. I could hear my heels clicking on the floor.. More

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