' But I was still uncertain of his request, fearful of the pain I felt the last time. I was conflicted. It really hurt the last time. But now it felt ...o good and I didn't want him to be disappointed with me, so I agreed. Randy told me to spit on my hand and lube up his cock. Yes, lube is good I thought to myself. I had real evidence of that fact. I did as he said remembering how the lube helped this morning. My mouth was dry but my saliva was thick and slippery. I spread my spit around his. . scumbag, is how I believe the warrant reads.Bolton had recently separated from his wife — her ultimatum. No kids. He was renting a loft in SOMA, which looked to me to be dangerously close to turning into a touristy mecca like SOHO.At least San Francisco doesn’t have New Jersey next door. But it does have a rapidly gentrifying population all around Market Street.South of Market, Bolton lived in a refurbished factory building now called The Modernist. Maybe a reference to the private club of. It was a beautiful night, crisp and clear and quiet, with no other cars on the road. Jessica had decided to take the scenic route across town, a looping byway that skirted the edge of a big park.Jessica looked over at Jane — back now in her platinum blonde wig and outfit from before — as she sat staring out the window, apparently lost in thought. There was something about this woman, Jessica thought... some core of grace and pride that remained untouched, whatever humiliations she was subjected. Slowly and carefully I dove underneath and shimmied my way beneath them, crawling blindly towards the weeping figure ahead of me.I was half-way under, my ass and legs still sticking out, when my hands touched Peggy's feet.When I put my hands on her feet she jerked and lashed out with one foot, hitting me squarely on the top of my head with a dull 'thunk'. I scrambled to capture both of her ankles before she could do any real damage then slid my hand up over her calves to her knees and held her.