Cold sweat breaking out of her pores Bailey slowly raised her head to meet the sight of a grinning lady with taut cheekbones.

  Clad in a loose robe—similar to hers—the weak strands of her gray hair gummed to her forehead as a result of perspiration.

  She seemed like an aged ghost that Bailey instinctively cowered from.

  “You?” Turning to the middle-aged lady, he pulled his finger out of Bailey's core.

  In turn, she quickly drew her thighs together, cheeks reddening as the lady raised a brow in entertainment.

  “Yeah. It's me, rascal. Want to get out of here or continue pawing the poor girl's coochie?” She asked, her eyes flickering...