Abi groaned aloud and bucked her hips in anticipation.My index finger traced the rim of her arse before slowly pushing against her resistance.“Ohhhh...,” Abi groaned some more.“Fran, a little more relaxant please.”Giggling, Fran picked up a red cup, complete with straw and moved it to Abi’s lips.“That’s another Jack and coke.”“Good, let me know if we have any adverse reactions.”Firm constant pressure and my slick digit broke through the tight ring of muscle as I let it sink two knuckles deep. But it didn't work out the way I had outlined in the letter. When I got home that afternoon my mom was there, moping around."You're going to be late for work," I observed when I saw that she wasn't wearing her nurse's uniform."I'm not going," she said, watching to see if I needed further explanation. I didn't. I knew what was troubling her. She had been like this since Heather had been gone. She asked me over and over to describe the man who had taken Heather away. After the second or third. Clipped to the inside front cover of the file was an 8" x 10" glossyof Linda, one of the publicity shots the PR department sends out tonewspapers and the like. Linda was short, barely five-five in herthree inch heels, had collar-length hair she dyed auburn to hidethe grey creeping in, was a little on the plump side with a largebackside, a somewhat matronly bosom, and a waist that had thestandard middle-aged spread you'd expect on a woman in her midforties. She was wearing an. "Well, honey, I'll bear that in mind, and who knows? I might be able to arrange a reunion later, right? You having fun with those delicious sluts of yours?" Jeanette responded rather seductively."I'll say. I'll be eager for the augmentations. These women are about to fuck me into the grave, and you haven't exactly made it easy on me, either," Lucian answered half-seriously, knowing that Jeanette wouldn't show any mercy."Oh, poor you, getting laid six or seven times a day! How horrid that must.
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Today, I received a message from the Landeskriminalpolizei in Stuttgart with the serial number of the gun used in this suicide. As a matter of routine
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