”Sitting in my hotel room at last, eating a room-service club sandwich and drinking iced tea, I reflected on my impulsive act of earlier in the day....By the time I flew home tomorrow morning I would wind up flying 9,000 miles round-trip to give the man I served as on-line mistress a blow job as his—and my—Valentine’s Day present.I had violated his wife’s one, clearly-stated rule against face-to-face contact (though I smiled as I reflexively defended it as not face-to-face but face-to-cock). I. I had an old tennis racquet, propped up in a corner. I grabbed it andhesitantly and very, very reluctantly went over to the bed. The ratstill had not moved, perhaps it was as afraid of me as I was of it.I raised the racquet and was just about to smash it down on the ratwhen I saw the covers of my bed move.There was something else in my bed! Another rat!I ran out of the room and slammed the door shut.To say I was frightened was an understatement...more like terrified. Iwent downstairs, got a. The two day Financial Industry conference sponsored by a myriad of Mutual Fund companies to peddle their latest investments had too much information packed in too short of a time frame. I glanced at the glass doors across the room that led to the hotel's foyer, as I politely listened to one of the attendees bragging about the fortune he had amassed by investing in crypto-currency. I followed the path of his hand as he reached for the inside pocket of his jacket. He pulled out a business card. Besides being a BMW dealer he also owned a towing service, a body shop, and a junkyard operation, and they had a 24/7 hotline. There were people who alleged that some of the cars that were processed in the junkyard might be listed as stolen in neighboring states, but those were rumors. Joey was lucky because Uncle Rico answered in person."Hi, Uncle Rico. This is Joey. I have a bit of a problem." Wassup, Joey? You didn't have an accident?" No, some jerk vandalized my mom's Mini Cooper..