She had well-iced martinis waiting. They were pale as water and pwerful as absolute alcohol. At least that's how the first couple of sips reacted. I started eating the olive to sort of delay more intake of alcohol, but the olive must have been soaked in gin because it only enticed me to finish the drink. She promptly poured another and she wasn't reneging in that department either. In a couple of minutes, we'd both be crocked and whatever plans I had would be lost to some others that were beginning to hover about in my mind. This diminutive doll packed a large amount of sex bang and she was all mine.

1965.