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He then wandered out to the kitchen to get a drink, finding Tracy in her baby doll pajamas. It was later than he had realized; apparently Kris had gotten too far in his paperwork to notice until now.Tracy was startled. "Kris, hi!" Sorry to scare you, Trace," he smiled at his son's pretty girlfriend."Did you get your work done?" she asked."Most of it. I think I'm going to relax in the living room for a bit." Mind if I join you since Kristian is asleep?" Go nuts," he grinned. Company sounded good right about now.Tracy then sat beside him on the couch, watching TV and chatting before somehow, the conversation turned to their respective partners and sex. Tracy could sense Kris was stressed, not to mention the rise in his pants was not lost on her.She then did something Kris never expected.Tracy then slid over closer to him and put her hand on his crotch, rubbing it gently. "You know, I could do something about that," she purred, indicating his slight hard-on."Tracy, you're still a. Miranda's lips parted. “Jessi?”“Can’t I? I won’t do anything else.”Miranda frowned. “I guess…it’s okay.”Jessi massaged both cups with her strong hands. Miranda gulped. She snuck a glimpse to the stairs. Jessi grinned and pinched the nipples hard.Miranda covered her mouth. “Jessi, don’t do that.”“Don’t you like it?”“I…I don’t mind it. But Jason might hear.”“Then come to my room,” Jessi whispered. “If he comes down, we’ll hear it. We can say we were talking.”Miranda’s eyes widened. “Jessi, what are y-?”Jessi kissed her. “I just want some skinship with my big sister before I go.”Miranda blinked and touched her lips. “O-okay, I guess.”Jessi led her sister into her room and locked the door. They sat down on the bed with Jessi hugging Miranda. “I love you, Mira.”“I love you too, Jess.”Jessi started fondling Miranda’s breasts again. Sweat trickled down Miranda’s head. She stared up at the ceiling expecting Jason to come down.Jessi licked Miranda’s neck. “Can I touch them?”“You are touching.
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Above me stood a high corniced ceiling and a candelabra chandelier. To my left, if I had been able to observe it, was a fireplace and imposing mantelpiece. The carpet was Paisley type weave of blue and beige and the wall paper Herbert Morrison. Behind me was a wood panelled screen that enabled the room to be opened into a still larger one. This screen normally functioned to allow the adjacent space to serve as an office. As such, its thin wooden panels did nothing to attenuate any sound between that office and the chamber in which I was currently stood. In this case attenuation would have made little difference since, in accordance with my express wishes, Mia had left open the reception door on her way in. This permitted the various sounds of the proceedings to be audible not only in the office, but throughout this Victorian Town house in the heart of Sydney. Had I had time to ponder my predicament, I might have wondered if my childhood days at a catholic school had.

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