Tum itne jyada gande bachche the mujhe pata nahi tha.”Pankaj phir ‘sorry sorry’ bol ke gig gida raha tha. Aur phir maine Kamal ka bhi phone chec... kiya uar usme bhi meri kaafi photos thi. Mujhe pata toh chal gaya tha ye dono mujhe dekh kar apne lund ki bukh shaant karte hai.Me: Achcha toh tum dono meri photo dekh kar apna lund hilate ho.Pankaj and Kamal: Nahi chachi ye aap kya keh rahi ho? Aisa kuch nahi hai.Me: Dekho mujhe pata hai ki tum hi nahi aas paas ke ghar ke kaafi bachche mujhe imagine. “Please come with me,” he said with an odd squeaky voice.“Where to, and does nobody speak Italian?” she replied, not getting up.“To see the His Magnificence the Emir, may he live for ever, and I don’t think so,” replied the eunuch, who was under strict, if incomprehensible, orders from the Emir himself not to antagonise or chastise this woman.Sister Annamaria rose and followed him, thinking that perhaps now she would get some answers. She was led to a large, airy room which was quite empty,. ’ Very, very nice. She gave the address in Hyde Park, snapped the cell phone closed and turned to see the portly Vice President, and the pseudo grieving widow. With a contrite smile, Cat murmured softly. ‘Oh…Sorry.. I needed a quiet place, didn’t want to bother you. I remembered the way, I hope you don’t mind. I, need to wait for a return call. OK to take it here? I, don’t want to take you from your visitors, Mrs. Robertson.’ Mrs. Robertson, had never appreciated Cat’s mind, the way her. As usual they were the first to disappear to the local pub once we were back leaving me and Rory to tie up the boat and unload the gear. Rory's boat was almost thirty three foot in length with a large wheel house at the front and a long open back ideal for our casual fishing on the odd occasion. It was hardly a romantic setting for any liaison."Look at that!" said Rory looking up at the car park overlooking the harbor.I looked up to see what it was Rory was talking about. A brand new Bentley.