He’d had connections, I supposed. Perhaps a cousin who worked as a curator or a friend from college who worked as an event organizer – some inside connection. We’d taken a black town car down fifth avenue and arrived at The Met around nine at night, almost four hours after the museum had officially closed.
An Artful Encounter: Sex in the Museum
04 Friday Mar 2016
Posted in Public Sex, Quickies, Romantic Erotica
