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I was totally relaxed and extremely happy. The brandy had never tasted so rich and smooth. I felt wonderfully close to Mr. Damon and Mr. Compton right then, and I could sense they felt the same way. We finally could relax openly and celebrate the success of the bond sale. I was growing just a teeny bit inebriated when Mr. Damon asked me if I like to dance. "I do," I said, "and I'm quite good at it too," I added immodestly. "I'll bet you are. Why don't you show us a few of your dance moves. I'd find it relaxing to watch a pretty girl dancing right now. How about you, Matt?" "It would be just what the doctor ordered," Mr. Compton replied. I knew this invitation was not exactly proper, but the brandy had affected me just enough to make the idea exciting, nonetheless. The office has "soft jazz" piped into the conference room, and though that's certainly not dancing music, at the moment I thought it would do just fine, and I stood up and began to sway slowly, trying to get into. Another waiter approached, carrying a collar and leash. I took them from him and clipped the collar round my puppy's neck. Giving the leash a tug, I then began to walk slowly through the party guests, Claire crawling on her hands and knees behind me. Every so often, I would give the leash another tug, the signal, as she soon learned, to wag her tail even more vigorously.Claire looked so humiliated and degraded, crawling naked on all fours behind me, her head hanging down in abject submission, waggling her bottom to make her tail wag. Her predicament was made even more demeaning by the comments and laughter of the guests around her, looking down at her as she crawled past, leaning over to pat her head or stroke her fine ass.I approached the buffet table, laden with meats, salad, cheese, bread and other food items. I ordered my dog to sit whilst I filled a plate up with food. Taking a bite of quiche, I looked down at my sexy little puppy crouched at my feet."You must be a hungry.
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’ Julia walked Ellen to the door and cordially waved bye-bye, and for a moment watched the woman walk across the quiet road, her narrow hips swaying side to side. II. Robert drove, or we should say, was driven, up the driveway, at 5:30 prompt. He exited the passenger side door and waved his wife, Gail, goodbye, and the small champagne Chrysler backed back down the driveway and hummed almost silently off. It was time to meet the family, which at this point was only the son, Joey. Aged twenty-five, he had worked all of seven or eight days in his life, had collected the odd nametag and paper hat. He was not one for work. No father present: That one had scuttled off to the West Coast years before, but not without responsibility. His wife and son, the latter questionable, were well cared for by a thick montly check. Robert in many ways resembled the son, the hanger on, as he had been a hanger-on himself, a doughy, auburn-locked demi-orphan raised by a doting mum and dotinger aunts, aged.

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