It wasn’t long before they descended lower, following the curve of her hips. One hand taking a different path, sliding over the front of her stomach...and down, pressing against her mound through her skirt.She moaned for the first time.I bent at the knees so my hands could continue their descent, past the hemline of her skirt and over her smooth nylon clad legs. When I reached her feet I looked up at her. She knowingly placed her hands on my shoulders to steady herself as I raised first one foot. We call it the Jazz Club, although it's officially named after its location. It's in a wonderful old Antebellum house, with dark wood paneling, high ceilings and a rich, tasteful ambiance.I like it there because it's got a nice selection of single malt Scotch, and they allow cigar smoking in the bar. I don't actually like cigars--smoking them or being around the smoke--but I do like my pipe. The Jazz Club is one of the few places where I can be comfortable and enjoy the flavors of my sweet. More

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