" She said sincerely, looking at each of the mechanics before the lift doors closed, "Thank you."The lift doors hadn't quite closed, so Bren heard Nay...or speculating that maybe now Sophia would want some Disith brandy and a nice dinner. He gave a short sigh of annoyance and made sure the bed's viewscreen was still displaying stable values. When he looked up at Sophia, who was giving him a knowing smile."He's a good mechanic." He said, defending the man."I didn't say anything."When Sophia didn't. I wondered what her 'problem' was.There was plenty to throw away when I got to the office, but I'd transferred the paper to the trash can within an hour and was contemplating why we had so much waste paper when we had the Internet when Martha knocked on the door."Come on in. Can I offer you tea?" Nothing, Gordy." She sat down, but was clearly very nervous."Go on, talk to me." It's very hard." Go ahead. You know I don't bite." Yes. You're very nice. So's Weena. And all your friends. That's what. She often referred to herself as an old whore when addressing women's professional organizations and she was proud of the more than three decades she called her benevolent period. She championed women's rights, serving on the Governor's committee on battered women.She was preceded in death by her husband, C.C. Stone who died at sea a number of years ago.She leaves one brother, Randolph P. Tucker, a nephew, Stone Tucker and two nieces, Mrs. Laura Stephens and Mrs. Karen Pringle, all of this. Did you have permission to touch?”“No Sir.”You slap me again.“Did you have permission to rub that clit?”“No Sir.”The slaps and questions come rapidly now, Permission to insert a finger? No Sir.To insert two?No Sir.To insert three?No Sir.To pinch that clit?No Sir.To fuck that pussy?No Sir.To abuse your cunt?No Sir.To defile that body?No Sir.My face is read and my eyes are tearing, you grab my hair and yank my face up to look at you.“Did you ask permission to use MY cunt? Were you allowed to cum.