"Oh, I wouldn't worry. It just means they haven't decided who gets you tonight," she told me, teasingly."They must be drawing straws to see who loses,... I quipped."They'd better not!" she said. "Not without me!" she laughed again. Then she said, "Leave your bag and follow me. I'll show you where you can wash up. We'll leave deciding your fate until later."Dinner was early, out of respect for our change in time zones. It was served in the huge dining room with a table that was big enough for all. It was simple, and coordinated. At the same time, all of Kill Team Bravo were taken out, with a minimum of fuss and muss. There was a difference between a Kill Team, who were sent after civilians and other embarassments (politicians, lawyers, journalists, and leaks) and agency assassins, who's targets were usually other agents, foreign or rogue domestic. A much tougher target, in most cases. The Kill Team didn't stand a chance against 'true professionals'.#3 took out his man with the finesse of. He looked a bit surprise, and delighted. After all, it was beyond his imagination or expectation to massage such a beautiful young woman with voluptuous youth. He nodded his head in affirmation. I hinted at my awaiting wife. She entered bathroom to change clothes.Next moment she came out in petticoat, wrapping a towel on her top. I could guess she did not wear brassier underneath her towel. She, at the boy’s instruction, was now lying on the floor on her stomach; he began oil-massage her body,. I had someone look to see if I needed stitches. Nope just a bleeding bruise. I have like a three inch scab along the top of my head. I stayed awake for two hours to make sure of no concussion then took a Naproxen to make sure I wouldn’t tighten up like a board during the night and other than a little soreness that I still have. That was that.It was a dissonant experience though. People were concerned for me which I’m glad of. The part that confused me was they were acting like this was some.