Translation

“I don’t know where Mrs. Kamp is at the moment; perhaps she is off with her instructor Iglesias riding bareback… on one of her horses. She could also be with that other instructor Kenneth, learning how to perform her backswing. Still, she might be with Ronald, her swimming instructor.”

“I see…,” Nancy says with a nervous chuckle, “then I presume we will be doing the interview with you Richard?”

“Ah, yes my dear… if that is quite alright with you?” Mr. Kamp asks placing his hand on her thigh.

“Why certainly,” she answers placing her hand over top of his, “I’ve found it’s always beneficial to interview all members involved. You never know when someone might remember a vital clue others have forgotten. Plus it would be an honor to spend some time with the renowned Mr. Kamp.”

“Oh Miss Drew, you’re too kind.”

“Well then,” Nancy reaches into her bag, pulls out a tape recorder, notepad and pen, “the tape recorder is strictly for posterity purposes only.”
You also produce a notebook and pen from your pants pocket, ready to watch Miss Drew work her magic.

Mr. Kamp leans over picking up a bell and ringing it.

You nearly jump out of your seat as a young French girl appears from around the corner dressed in a ridiculous maid outfit. It looks like something out an adult magazine, consisting of a strapless corset that hardly does justice of covering her body. Her large breasts are set high upon her chest, budging furiously against the wireframe cups, doing their best to be liberated. The lacy ruffled bottom leaves little to the imagination as her succulent ass hangs out invitingly while the micro g-string thong front makes a very modest attempt at masking her feminine wiles. Fish net stockings clad her sexy taut legs as she gracefully walks in wearing three inch heels. Her auburn hair is fixed up and loose, letting small strands cascade over her face, framing it elegantly.

“Yes da(daddy)…,” the girl starts, looks around, and finishes, “Mr. Kamp?”

“Another Martini, Sophia.” Mr. Kamp gestures holding out his glass.

“Yes Mr. Kamp. Anything else for you sir?” Sophia bows taking Mr. Kamp’s glass.

“A small plate of appetizers.” Mr. Kamp says before turning to Nancy. “Would you like anything to drink dear?”

“May I have some water, please.” Nancy tells the maid in perfect French.

“Bottled or tap?” Sophia questions.

“Bottled water would be great.” Answers Nancy.

“Certainly.” Sophia agrees.

“Thank you.”

“And for you Mr. ...?” Sophia asks staring intently at you through her emerald green eyes.

You chuckle half heartedly feeling like an idiot, “I have no idea what you just said, sorry.”

“Mr. Doe. Sorry, he does not understand French.” Nancy intervenes.

“Wait, Mr.John. THE John Doe who writes for the newspaper?” Sophia questions excitedly.

“Yes. Do you know him?” Nancy questions.

“Yes. His articles are amazing. His weekly posts called "What a Girl Wants", make me gush.” Sophia blushes, glancing over in your direction before staring to the ground.

“You read the paper?”

“No, Emma reads it for me.” Sophia answers Nancy.

“That's enough Sophia!” Mr. Kamp interrupts.

“I am very sorry Mr. Kamp.” Sophia languishes.

“So, will you be having anything to drink, Mr. Doe?” Sophia asks you dispiritedly.

“She asked what you wanted to drink again.” Nancy translates.

“A Mountain Dew?” You inquire.

Sophia giggles, flashing you a beautiful smile, “Moun- tain Dew?”

“It is a Pepsi product. Do you have any?” Nancy questions.

“Yes, we do. It is Summer's favorite.” Sophia answers before adding, “If there will not be anything else...”

"Oh, and Sophia, go and get my cigar cutter and the lighter, I left it in the library." Mr. Kamp responds.

“Yes Mr. Kamp.”

“That will be all, Sophia.”

“As you wish sir." Sophia looks over in your direction one last time smiling radiantly and winks at you.

What the hell was that all about you wonder to yourself. Its times like these you wish you at least understood French. You watch as each step makes her ass tremble ever so lightly.

“My, my… there is definitely more to you than meets the eyes, isn’t there Miss Drew?” Mr. Kamp expresses squeezing her upper thigh openly. “If there wasn’t a Mrs. Kamp…”

More like if you weren’t in the room he would be all over her, probably with his cock halfway up her ass by now. God, you hated this Mr. Kamp. You literally felt nauseous just being around him.