"So," the boy continued without stopping, "there I was, wonderingwhat in hell would make someone do that, for real. And then I thought,I know someone...that could tell me. You. Except you wouldn't talk aboutit if I asked. I knew that already. "So, I made a few prints in my darkroom, at home, and put 'em inyour locker. I thought you'd take the bait," he grinned. "So," he continued before Chris could object, "what do I want? Iwant to talk to you, get to know you, figure out what makes. Just introduce yourself, your wife, a little about what you do, and your total corporate wealth, not personal.”“Gotcha, mate. I’m Robert Holmes à Court, my wife, Janet. We’re from Australia, if you didn’t figure it from the accent. I own Bell Group, about seven billion.”From the murmurs at a table behind us, he wasn’t a popular man with them.George continued around the room, skipping the women that had come in late, then starting on the second row of tables. From the far side of the stage, I. Just as the machine started to pick up a bit of speed and tears were freely running down my cheeks another object started to push its way in but this one was directed at my anus. I could feel the two cocks rubbing against the other between the flesh and membranes that separated them. The pain was too much and the last thing I saw before I passed out was my whore of a sisters eyes.When I woke up I was on a bed with bright lights in my eyes. Was it just some sick dream? I look around but next to. Instead, she was falling throughthin air. Darkness rushed past her. Then, abruptly, something solid struckher, and she twisted, landing upon her left side. The sphere of light wasnowhere to be seen.Painfully, Buffy rose. Her left shoulder ached, but no bones seemed tohave been broken, for which she could, once again, thank her superhumancondition. She must have fallen the equivalent of several stories. Such afall would have killed a normal person, but it had left Buff no more thanbadly shaken,.