If it had been earlier on I probably would have roasted the entire room in an inferno. I focused on his briefcase content heating it as fast and as mu...h as I could. His fancy gadgets were reduced to scrap in seconds. The metal briefcase functioned as a heat sink absorbing and dissipating the heat, which was lucky otherwise the hot scrap might have set fire to the case or burned into the desk. I decided I could use this to cover my tracks a bit, I focused on the sections holding the case open. Alone in her dinky living room, she reverently unwrapped her prize. It was oddly cool to her touch. This was no toy, like that silly, absurdly pink thing Miranda had given her. This was weighty, solid, serious. The blunt torpedo shape was meant for nothing more, or less, than penetrating her most intimate part.Now that she'd gotten it home, she was oddly hesitant. She stood it on her nightstand and turned on the shower.When she got out, warm and flushed and pink, it was waiting patiently.. One night Ihad found nothing much of interest going on in the dressing room andthought to investigate the rotted cardboard boxes shoved in the back ofmy hole. One contained tissues used by the Hole's former tenant. Ialmost barfed on that one. The other box contained a much moresurprising find.Underwear. Girl's underwear. And not just panties, but the sexy kind oflingerie the strippers wore. I took the boxes back up to my room wherethe light was better and used a stick to sort through the. When he closed the file, Nancy asked, "So, how did we do?" Well," said Bret, "there are three levels of aid from Max: A, B and C. We give C-level to pretty much anyone who buys our engine. It's just some advanced technical support. B-level teams get free hats and jackets and some travel money when they show the Max advertising. A-level teams get all that plus engines that have been breathed upon, as the saying goes, by our racing experts." Oh, I see," said Nancy. "So where do we stand?"Locking.