First Time Revenge: Fingering a Furious British Wife Under the Table
September evening, 6 PM, Mulhouse motel parking. Exhausted after updating factory robots. My young colleague Yannick and I spot a British couple by their packed monospace. Him: balding sixty-something in green pants, tartan vest, yellow shirt. Her: forties, tall redhead, huge square glasses, floral dress buttoned to the neck, massive yellow sandals. Plump hips, heavy…