"Tired?" Dagon asked, casting a glance at her relaxed body. He could see the curve of her calves, the long line of her thighs, clad in the sheer nude-colored stockings, up to the point where they disappeared beneath her short skirt, leaving only the bulge of their outline to tantalize his eye.

Boy, he'd sure like to get his hands up in there close to her tight little pussy, he thought. And he intended to do just that before the night was out. It had been a long time since he had seen a girl who so exactly fit his concept of the ideal woman. A child's face with a woman's body. He could feel the excitement mounting inside him at the thought of what her naked flesh would feel like beneath his hands, what she would be like grinding beneath his body!

"I hate seeing a pretty thing like you knocking herself out waiting on tables!" Dagon spoke, almost as though he were talking to himself.

"It's only temporary, Mr. Dagon…"

"Sam," he answered… "You make me feel like an old man… I'm only thirty-five… How old are you?"

"Why… I'm twenty-two… That is, my birthday is next month…" She was beginning to get confused by his questions… He seemed to be saying so many things at one time.

"Only temporary… eh? When are you planning to stop?"

"Well, my husband is a writer… and he should have completed his book by then… and then we'll be able to…" The familiar speech somehow wasn't coming out right.

"A writer, eh…? That's funny, I used to fiddle around with the typewriter myself… That is until I came to my senses…"

He looked over at her… "Oh. I don't mean to imply that your husband… what's his name?"