Well money does talk. Oh, and the man had fixed it so that the necessary periodic adjustments of the prosthetic legs was automatic and paid for in per...etuity.Oh, and the mask thing was introduced to me a day later. I hadn’t been sure about that one, the legs yes, but a mask? But, Owen had made the case that it was no different than a guy buying a hair piece to hide his otherwise not so hot looks. At any rate, I had acquiesced. I still got looks, mainly because of the mask, but at least now they. You can’t trust everyone. If it’s something that is affecting your life, then I will do it.Sunny: Thank you so much, bro. I knew you would help.Me: Is Maneet ok with this?Maneet suddenly entered the bedroom.Maneet: Yes, I have already discussed this with him. Thank you Ravi for agreeing to have sex with me. I have been killing my sexual urges for years. Now I feel happy that I can fulfill my desires.Sunny: So, let’s do it now.Maneet: How can we do it now? Everyone is at home and awake. They. . My Boss, the Chef, was a veteran scumbag, a staggering alcoholic who only got up only to place a few inventory orders and then fiddle in his office before retiring to his cabin on the hillside to drink himself into oblivion and fuck his pet hostess of the season. His main culinary techniques were to drink stolen beer, avoid the kitchen, and hope it didn't burn down around us. I realized at some point that was indeed my role, and demanded more money. This worked well, until we too often. I had written three more Battle Babes, and was thinking of winding it down. They had been fun to write, and had made me very rich, but I was tired of them. I was looking for an epic way to end it.To my amazement, one of my mysteries made the bestseller lists. The lead character, private detective and struggling actor Dirk Hanson stood six feet three, had jet black hair and piercing blue eyes, classic good looks and a body that looked like it was chiseled in stone. His nickname in the industry.