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nd to gain
his bearings. He looked back at Mary and saw..... black underwear.
When Mitsu Amai went to bend over a bit more, Mitsu's cafeteria style dress had
hiked up quite a bit. Jerry was phased, creased, whatever you want to call
it. But all he saw was black lace panties riding up the crease, er crack of
her ass.
'Invisible', he thought. 'and unnoticed.....'. 'Interesting', he thought
again.
He walked over to Mary and looked at Mitsu's with a grin. Mitsu Amai was
pretty, about 30 with a kid. Divorced. Mitsu Amai was from Puerto Rico, kinda
looked like Whitney Houston, but with bigger breasts and a rounder butt.
Maybe about 20 pounds heavier, but hell, he thought, Whitney's a twig.
He ran his finger down Mitsu's back, feeling the polyester of Mitsu's uniform.
He always had a thing for tight, polyester work uniforms, you know,
nurses, coffee shop waitresses, that sort of thing. This thing ain't so bad
after all, he thought.
He stepped behind Mitsu's and took hold of Mitsu's hips, no reaction. He
stepped up closer and pushed his groin against
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