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Back home, I found a small, one bedroom apartment to rent. It was a step down from what I was used to.

Who am I kidding; it was a thousand steps down from what I was used to.

And I needed a job. My resume, if I even had one, was scant. I mean, fucking and eating wealthy women's pussies so I could scam them out of their money was not going to get me a job.

One day, while I was having coffee in one of the town's cheapest diners, in walks Angelina Wojik. If you'll recall I was fucking Angie when we were both teenagers, Her assets included big tits which were fun to play with and suck.

"Ivan? It's been ages. Whatever happened to you?"

I made some excuse about traveling the world which was true. "What about you?"

"I'm divorced. Why don't we get together? Have a few beers."

We made a date for Saturday night.

By Sunday morning, I'd re-acquainted myself with those fabulous tits. "Ivan, I've never forgotten how good you were to them. I know you're just getting used to being home, but they're yours whenever you want them. But right now . . ."

She went down on me.

She giggled when she came up for air. "I'm sure I didn't do this back when we were kids. Married life teaches you a few things. I found that sucking cock is one of my favorite things, but I don't remember yours being so big." She put my cock back in her mouth.

We saw each other about once, sometimes twice a week. She was a good fuck and when I ate her pussy she went wild.

Angie still worked for the catering company. "Ivan, until you find something steady, they're always looking for waiters. One or two night a week, they always have an event."

There was new ownership; no one remembered me, but like Angie said they were always looking for waiters.

It was easy enough; serve food and drinks at tables; walk around with trays of hors d'oeuvres or depending how fancy it was, flutes of champagne.

The money kept me afloat and Angie and I still fucked once or twice a week. There was no commitment, except, "I hope you're in the mood to fuck tonight. I haven't seen you in a week, my pussy is itching for your big cock," she whispered as we arrived at a catering job.

It happened six months after I'd returned and it happened out of nowhere. It was like déjà vu all over again.

We were catering a big, high-class event. "Waiter, oh waiter, don't I know you?"

It was Princess Sophie von Hauphtmann. "Ummm, I think we've met before Your Highness, but I can't remember where. Perhaps, it was charity event like this one."

I was afraid that she'd remember that I had absconded with some of her jewelry.

"No, it wasn't that. Find your manager."

"Your Highness, is something amiss?" The manager asked.

"No, but I will be leaving shortly, and it would be inappropriate for me to leave unescorted. Can you arrange for this waiter what's your name?"

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