After many days of persuasion, I finally convinced Bianca to go to Mazatlan ; I wanted to wear my bikini. We arrived in ... Mazatlan , Friday morning. The sun was hot, and the water seemed to be calling my name. We made out way into the hotel. -Hurry up and change Bianca, I’ll meet you guys by the shore. -- Ok, don’t go to far or we may not find you… -Ok. As I made my way into the room, I looked back. She was wearing a navy blue one-piece bathing suit. It was stretched tightly over a lovely curvy body. Her bum in particular was mouth-watering, the kind I always long to grab hold of and sink my face into. In my unclothed state, the wisest thing might have been to beat a quick retreat, but nobody ever said I was wise, and I wanted to watch her swim. I lay back with my hands behind my head and watched as she waded through the gentle waves and then plunged into the water. I was suprised at just. She has time to scream only a moment before the driver pokes her in the neck with something that crackles and sparks. The girl’s body goes stiff and then slumps to the ground. The driver opened the side door of his van but before he can drag her in I launched myself at him with an incandescent rage that consumed me like an exploding star. I became a tornado of sharp claws while my jaws clench on his nose, my fangs gripped deep and I scratched his face with all my strength. Screaming now, the. It was not a charity organization, a humanitarian relief organization, nor a regular business. One Night Relief was an organization designed with the sole purpose of catering to the whims and fetishes of the elite and powerful. For a price.Musicians, actors, pro athletes, ceos, anyone with plenty of cash to spend on a night of personal pleasure, was welcome here. Complete privacy and secrecy were promised. The ONR would not even vet their clients; it was not their concern what they wanted nor.