He then just reached out and put his fingers in my wet pussy again. He laughed, saying I was wet as a real slutty white married bitch…He looked at m... serious, ordering me to get out of my sexy dress and show him what kind of slut I really was…I had no other choice; so I just did what he asked, stripping off my dress. I stood totally naked in front of the little bastard, guessing what else he had planned for me. He ordered me to sit on the desk and spread my legs; so he could get a closer look. The striking thing about her was not her silky smooth complexion, or her shapely nose with its upturn, or her long eyelashes, but her breasts. These were conical, and projected aggressively, doing battle with her under-sized blouse, and winning at several points. Rural workingwomen do not wear bodices or brassieres, just a blouse of thin cotton and the end of the sari, the pallav, thrown across the chest and resting on the left shoulder. This woman had allowed the sari to fall off her shoulders. .. spoke too quickly. Both I and the person who signed thecontract remember the original reality." You eliminate the person by causing them to have been born as someone else.Am I right; is that what you do?" Yes, precisely. You are good, Doctor." Just out of curiosity, what sort of person do they become?" That's the odd part. I have no control over that. In some cases, they'rea sibling of their original selves. In other cases, they aren't even thesame age or race. There's just one thing in. I watched Al and I couldn't detect that he had any idea what was going on.The byplay wasn't all verbal. Some of it was visual signaling. These women were forgetting that I had been married for twenty years and I'd seen all this kind of communication before. Was I upset? Not a bit. I was enjoying the game and the company. I was a willing dupe, but if I knew what was going on then I couldn't be taken advantage of, could I?The speeches were mercifully short. The president named the new members in.