I imagine it’s a collection of telephone and computer operators taking orders, doing customer service and the like.”Homer rubbed his chin and then...shook his head. He took another sip of coffee.“That sounds like a lot of women’s jobs to me.”“Could be, I don’t know,” Cal answered. “There’ll be the warehouse jobs, too. Don’t forget all the trucks in and outta here, not to mention the construction jobs if they rehab the building. Sounds like plenty for everyone.”Homer threw away his cup.“There’s. “I know this must be difficult. Tell me what were you wearing?”This jolted Tracey back into the present and she continued. “Oh, this black skirt and a tight blue top!”“And the skirt is leather and mini?” Said the Policewoman. Tracey nodded.“Anything else?”“Heels!” Tracey said to the table in front of her.“Lingerie?”“Yes, I still have that on, although it is ripped now!” Tracey’s face started to crumble into tears again and she sipped her water trying to calm herself.“And then?” The. Then they re-fastenedthe strap that held my leg secure. Then the leg rests on the chair,along with my own legs were spread wide and locked in place. Vickyadjusted the light and moved in closer to my crotch. I felt a coldspray on my dick and crotch area. Then it felt cool and then everythingbecame numb and tingly. "This may hurt a little, honey. Just try andhold still for me" she said. "I felt a tug and heard a 'click'. Thenanother tug and another 'click'. Finally I heard the 'tinkle' of. What is this thing that separates them? Where does each woman’s morality – or lack thereof – originate? Where does it come from, this sense of right and wrong? The personality? Her upbringing? A soul? Is this the very essence which seeped out of David James Barrow’s shell when he died? His soul? Is it a soul that gives Catriona Hamsun her identity? Or is it, perhaps, memory? Memory and experience? With the loss of her memory, Catriona Hamsun seemed to lose whole chunks of identity – name,.