Behind you, the door opens, and out walks your girlfriend looking beautiful in a way only she does best. Hair frizzed from the blowdryer, not a spot o... makeup on, and not a piece of clothing either. Seeing you sitting on the couch she runs up and jumps on your lap, hugging you with her breasts pressing into your face. "How was work baby?" She asks, you mutter on about how your day went, not really caring about your answer or the question. She picks up on your less then elated mood and starts. Thin spaghetti straps held it up, a sweetheart neckline exposing my boobs, the tapering waist merely accenting my shape. The hem was about two inches above my knees, and really looked quite nice with my white shoes and stockings. I touched up my lipstick, then followed them back to the patio, where Ken was waiting. He took my hand as the music started, folded me into his arms, and as is tradition, we danced alone for a while. All of this attention was all very nice, but isn't it weird for two. "Sir," he said to the lieutenant who was closest to him. "I'd like to tell you the whole story, at least what I know of the raid and who was involved. It is going to sound bizarre, but I swear it's true and I'd be willing to take a lie detector test, but first, promise me that you will check on my girlfriend, I know that she's in danger and she needs help badly!" What's her name, son," the policeman asked, his voice softening somewhat when he heard the sincerity in the young man's. The giant water fountain backlit with bright reds, greens and blues seemed to glisten right off the paper. The wall that held the bed and nightstand boasted a picture of the burnt orange waves of sand in a desert somewhere, a grouping of smaller framed prints including a lizard, a scorpion, and a beetle, another large print of revelers around a bonfire, and one of a bright yellow painting of a smiling sun. Except for the concept of dry heat that made Katherine feel vaguely thirsty, there seemed.