As I was glancing at my star charts, I happened to look over at my neighbor's house. She's always left her blinds open on her back door and I've often...seen her working or playing with her kids or her many animals. We'd smile and wave, shouting greetings whenever we'd see each other over our fence.Tonight, however, her kids were nowhere to be seen. She was apparently getting ready to watch a movie and wasn't wearing very much at all. I felt a twitch in my jeans as I saw her sensuous walk across. The Intel was good, and they were certain the drugs were on this ship. When the cargo started to come out of the holds of the ship, the authorities were even more careful. The pallets, although sealed in plastic and checked at their ports of departure, they were checked and rechecked here. This was easier for the dogs. The men checked for signs of tampering and the machines could see more clearly. Everything was clean. The stevedores did not mind working longer hours. By morning, they were. Without sawmills, they built with logs, but I don’t have anyone to help me lift logs into place. Could I build a wall out of logs, anyway? The logs would have to be roughly fifteen feet long to span the whole thing from wall to wall. Oh, that rock plugs most of the entrance, but there’s no way to attach logs to the rock, so I think I need to build the wall all the way across, even behind the rock.“Hmmm, I wonder how big the logs really need to be. I could flatten the mating surfaces, then bore. Also putting on their clothes, dressing in the way they have chosen for me – it's another watershed moment.I mean, we are all so used to dressing the way we want – style, colour, design but I'm being dressed by other people without any reference to my wishes. Like being in prison. In prison – that's what Gaspazha Neena said when she was punishing me: slaves are in custody. And look at the way I'm talking about them now. Neena is no longer the girl or Neena. She is now Gaspazha Neena. I don't.