Katara looked at him steadily. “Just say it,” she said, “I won’t bite, Aang.” Aang hesitated. “You’re a really horny girl, aren’t you,...Katara?” he asked finally. There was a moment of silence and Aang was afraid for a second that he had jumped the gun. But Katara just broke out laughing. “You caught me,” she laughed, “What can I say? I like a good fuck.” Aang smiled. The plan was working smoothly. “I can tell,” said Aang, “I mean, I did double team you with your brother a few weeks ago.” Katara. ‘No, I don’t think you are.’ I smiled. ‘I’m Dave, this scruffy git is Bill.’ I held out my hand. ‘Emma.’ She said, shaking my proffered hand in amusement. ‘I’ll bring the chair over when I hear you start the truck.’ With that she turned away again. Part way back to her tent she twisted back around. ‘After over six years my fantasy guy has a name at last.’ She called before disappearing into the tent again. Bill and I looked at each other astounded. ‘Did she just say what I think she said?’ I. I took snap after snap as Betty discarded the cardigan and, after only a momentary hesitation, started to unbutton her dress, starting at the top. She was very drunk now and her fingers fumbled with the buttons. Harry, ever the gentleman, waited until all the buttons were undone and helped her shrug the dress off. It fell to the floor to join her discarded cardigan. She stood, unresisting as Harry grabbed the hem of her slip and pulled it up. Like a sleepy c***d being undressed by a parent. At his feet, three of Washington's less desirable young gentlemen lay unconscious and disarmed. In front of Henry lay a half-dozen handguns of varying manufacture, quality and calibre, four cans of mace, three switchblade knives (backup armament for the three aforementioned sacks of flour) and a civilian-grade taser. A large mixing bowl contained a rapidly-growing quantity of ammunition and magazines as he unloaded the guns. On his hands Henry wore rubber dish-washing gloves to keep innocent.