I feel one of his hands move along the outside of my thigh and in under my skirt while his other hand still is working on my back, over to my side, st...oking along my firm breast.He slides his hand up along my bum cheek, under my panties. This man really knows how to move his hands. He is firm but gentle, teasing and exploring with no hint of hesitation. My mind goes back to his cock swelling under my palm earlier and I put my hand on his knee to show what I want. He laughs a bit, but does not. "Don't say any more until Chief Deputy Webster calls for you. Do write your report and have it ready but do not turn it in until after the interview." It sounded like they might want a rewrite, but if they did there was going to be a problem."Go on down to the garage and draw a car for tonight," he suggested.The rule in the Warren County Sheriff's office was first in, first out if possible. I was waiting for the first car to come in from patrol. My pay started when I checked in on the radio. I. "Kate was here."Kate Crawford was nineteen years old, raven-haired, pale-skinned (like many Christchurch area natives), and solidly built, but not lacking in feminine curves. She had a full bosom capped with large, extremely sensitive nipples. She was also a hard-drinking, foul-mouthed, functional alcoholic who was a fixture in most of the waterfront bars down by the docks.Kate worked in her widowed thirty-eight year old mother's seafood shop down in Lyttelton. She, like the fabled Molly. ”“I’ll take a grilled cheese with tomato.”“Would you like fries?”“Yes. Thank you.”“For you, Sir?”“I’ll have a chopped steak with fried onions and an order of onion rings.”“I’ll put that right in. It shouldn’t be too long.”Janice walked away and Betsy just smiled at me. I could tell she was happy to be having a meal. I felt really sorry for her. I just wondered what her story was. She still didn’t mention what was wrong.“So why is such a pretty girl alone on the interstate?”“My mother’s an.