Abby stood there smiling at him, her perky breasts pushed against the Grateful Dead T-shirt she wore."Come on in," Abby said. "Take a load off. I happ...ned to see you getting out of the 'vette."Warren entered the trailer, bending even though it wasn't necessary. His piercing brown eyes digested everything about her. He was trying to disguise the hunger within him, but it would have been evident to the most casual observer and there was nothing casual about Abby.Abby was a stripper at Platinum. These are not your fingers, and yet your wife finds herself responding as she does with you. The fingers rub the soft cotton of your wife’s panties, feeling her vulva beneath the thin fabric. The room is warm, and the cotton damp to the touch. Perspiration, perhaps – but you know better than most your own wife’s desire, and it seems more than coincidence that the panties are wettest where those fingers continue to massage her sex. Almost without thinking your wife widens her legs still. Slata had shown me my betrayal, and Thrak had seen his.I stroked his face as Chaun slumped. I traced my husband's brutish features, brushing the bone piercings dotting lips and eyebrows and nose. My fingers were pale on his swarthy skin. I reached his woolly hair, sliding through the thick curls, my fingers growing tangled in the strands.“She showed you the truth about Serisia's death?” I asked.His hands clenched. Murderous rage flashed through his eyes. “Bruk!”“Your brother?” I gasped in. Maybe it was her cute white top, with its narrow satin ribbon holding the scooped neck together in a tiny bow-tie, innocently begging to be tugged open. Or maybe it was that peaches- and-cream complexion, which made her seem to glow with an angelic inner light from across the dim, packed space. Or maybe he was just horny, and she was pretty and clearly alone in the town’s notorious – and only – singles’ bar. Either way, he was drawn to her. Which was more than enough reason to make a move..