As I sat, Matt leaned in and murmured, ‘I hope you know what you’re doing.’ I slanted him a look out of the corner of my eye. He met my stare ev...nly. I grabbed the drink that was in front of me and took a big gulp. Liquid courage, and all. I could see Brad trying to suppress a smile. Conversation resumed, and we ordered dinner. After the waitress left, a thought occurred to me that had my devilish side coming back. ‘So,’ I cleared my throat, and paused for dramatic effect. Everyone turned to. They each tried to use the other pitilessly. In fact they felt fully compatible only when clamped andsealed together with sweat, Nick's fat cock buried deep inside Kelly and unwilling to quit, swollen to fill her entire inner territory while her thighs gripped him tight around his waist, her ankles locked behind him, holding him captive. It was a kind of combat. Nick needed to feel he was encircling,crushing, possessing, exhausting her, reducing her to a whining ragat his feet too demoralized. "Hi, Bob. Helen. What are you doing Tuesday night?" Nothing until now. What are we doing?" You're taking me out. There's something you just have to see." Are you going to tell me what?" No, but you'll love it. Trust me." Trust you, huh." Yes, really. Pick me up about 8:00. It doesn't start until 10:00, but we'll need to be there early to get in."Tuesday I picked Helen up at her house. She directed me to a bar called the Silver Slipper. I'd been there. Ted, the owner, was an occasional customer.. The tattoo was the clincher. He's former European intelligence of some kind, and he's been dead for five years. Or at least he was presumed dead. They won't say why they were interested in him, but they're sending someone out to talk to us. Washington has made it clear that we are going to do everything in our power to cooperate with whomever they send. You know what this means?" Assassin," came the reply."They call him 'The Sandman.' Like I said, the tattoo was the clincher. Their agent is.