“If you get your hands on good stuff again, save some for us.” “We don’t need any stuff to have some fun,” he suggested, leaning on the edge...of the worn writing desk. “But that’s not how the deal works,” I told him with a wink, earning a mock pout in return. Something occurred to me though, and I turned around. “You’re awfully quiet, Mona.” She stared at me with wide eyes. Then she stepped slowly closer, and my heart stopped when her arms went around me. Her naked body once pressed against. I carefully run my finger against the edge of the nearest three inch hole. It is smooth and polished. No jagged edges. I can see into the next room. A hulk of a man is undressing. His shirt comes off first. The guy is about five foot six in height, and easily, two hundred pounds of steroid enhanced muscle. The guy is a tank. A pit bull. Shaved head, massive gold stretcher rings in each ear. His upper back is heavily inked. As is his lower back. Great. A guy with a tramp stamp. I sip more beer. More

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