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He had been on his way home, his cell was dead and he was trying to find some where he could charge it, too bad it had gone up with his car and his wallet."Excuse me... ," looking at the waitress's name tag, "Nell, do you have a phone here I can use?" Normally I'd say yes but the storm moving in, has knocked out all lines over a hundred mile area," she replied her western accent irritating Gordon."How about a cell phone?" Gordon asked hoping he'd have better luck."Naw, no towers out here, we are considered a true dead zone," she drawled back. Damnit! he had to contact his boss, this deal could mean millions of dollars and a possible promotion, "There's a decent hotel here, the phone company said they'd probably be back up sometime tomorrow." Gordon just nodded as she left for a moment returning with his food. For a moment Gordon thought he saw the woman at the other end staring hungrily at his plate.Sighing, Gordon wasn't usually concerned with other people, he'd gotten used to the. D’Dea locked the door behind her and stripped out of her armor. Her chiseled yet graceful form – flat tummy, round buttocks, firm conical breasts, wide hips – was still slick with perspiration from travel and battle, torrid from the thick linen insulation of her thorium armor and the wet heat of Stranglethorn. Laid down on the gaudy bed, with its pineapple-and-flamingo pattern, lowered her brown linen thong. She breathed deeply. Prepared herself. From her supine position D’Dea exerted herself to make a long reach to her satchel, too lazy to get up, enervated by the plush bedding. Pulled out the toy, discretely hidden in a long silk scarf. Examined it a bit. A good piece of work, it was – wider than it was tall, teasing little indents along the base, and a brash, sensuous bulge at its tip. Solid ebon color, solid but smooth, metallic but warm. A lusciously exaggerated parody of a manhood. The night elf woman rubbed it back and forth in her moist hands. Delicately brought it to her.
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