Nice-looking guy named 'Wilt' (short for Wilton, I think). Longish dirty blonde hair, glasses, and a square jaw. About 5'10", maybe 170 pounds, early 20's. And nearly penniless.We both got off the train around 1 a.m. in Calais, and found an open bar/diner in the train station. I was hungry and had a sandwich, and beers for both of us. I could tell Wilt didn't have any money so I bought us each a couple more beers while I finished my snack.As I got ready to leave it looked to me like he was ready to sleep the night in the station waiting for a morning ferry, so with some apprehension I offered to let him share my flat for the night. We were friendly enough where it seemed an easy fit. I would learn later just how correct I was!A couple of blocks towards the ferry docks we found a small hotel open, with a few locals sitting around having drinks. Using just one of the few French words I knew, I got us a 'chamber'. It was a very old building, with a common hall bathroom and a simple. Her arms, shoulders, deep sexy neck, very ample amount of breasts, her belly, and belly button were all exposed in this saree. The head veil only seemed like a distraction.Mumtaz started her car when it was 5 minutes past 8 pm. Her maids winked at her as she left. Maybe they knew she was not the same woman.Mumtaz had never been to Alex’s house. It was a huge mansion. Mumtaz wasn’t surprised as she knew Alex was a con man. She parked her car and walked through the open main door. There were hardly 10 to 15 people inside, including bearers who carried champagne in glasses.Mumtaz could observe the eyes of all the men and women inside lock on to her. Alex rushed to aid, carrying a glass of champagne.“Welcome, my cool lawyer,” he giggled, “Wow, never thought you could dress to kill.”“Well, thank you!” Mumtaz whispered, retaliating to Alex’s flirty remarks.“Get this woman a glass,” Alex roared.“I don’t drink, not supposed to,” Mumtaz was stern.“Well, you are not supposed to wear such.
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