She told me to open the door whenever I got there. Her door was unlocked, so I opened it. The light was very dim, but I could not tell whether she was...naked standing at the kitchen looking at the opposite way from the front door. She was taller than me; she was perhaps about 6 feet tall. Height did not matter for me though. Once she turned on the light, looking at me from the end of the room, she reveals herself to me, and yes she was naked. She had big tits, a nice fit body, better looking. Carol grinned. "Hooked!", she thought, and passed Jeremy the package.He looked at it briefly, his feelings slightly assuaged by the picture of the comparatively (for a ballet-boy, he thought sneeringly) muscled and tough looking boy on the packs' insert. "Take the package on up to your room, Jeremy. Take everything off, and 'bunch up' the tights, like you have to do for your soccer-socks to pull them on", she told him, knowing the nanickulite whose-its needed as much body contact as possible. "John Blakemore turned out to be the guy who engineered the fix to Katrina's Borkowski problem. He was the chief of public affairs for Fort Carson and a native of the area. He led us to a white Ford Taurus sitting in the tow away zone in front of the arriving flights doors. A cop standing by the car gave Mr. Blakemore a jaunty salute. Blakemore laughed and clapped the man on the shoulder then popped the trunk open so we could stow my bags. It finally registered that Katrina was empty. I was surprised to find the prisoners all locked into one cell, and the Indians that had escorted them, in the other. This pissed me off, again! I turned to Judge Mitchell and the Jailer and asked just what the hell was the meaning of locking up the Indians? Judge Mitchell stammered for a few seconds and then said, ‘The mob was all set to lynch all of the Indians! We were afraid that would cause a new Indian war. So we decided to put the Indians in a cell for their own protection. If you care.