And we know that. We have to play these head games to keep from screaming. We are neurotic . . . perhaps sometimes a little psychotic. Aid to the civi... power—that’s what we’re doing. All we want to do is get drunk, get laid, sleep for eons. Sleep is the elusive angel of our lusts. We never get enough sleep. We never have enough men. Everyone laughs at us – the IRA, the RUC, the protestants, the Catholics. We never do anything right. We are too little too late. And now Riley is dying – this big. By the amount of dust on it, it had been there for most of the century since the last inventory. With a nagging feeling of recognition, he pulled it out and began unwrapping it. It was a painting; a VERY good painting.An attractive dark haired young woman dressed in the fashion of the early twentieth century stood in three quarter profile to the left of an easel. Paintbrush in hand, She was critically examining a painting she had obviously just finished. Her painting was of an attractive dark. Jennifer Reed was someone others would call cute, even if Jahn thought her beautiful. A snub nose, lively blue eyes that sparkled with warmth and pleasure, utterly kissable pink lips and long, naturally blonde hair that trended towards platinum gave her a wholesome look that had at first, and despite her age, made him think of her as someone's kid sister. But now, with that expression on her face ... Jen looked miserable and scared. He'd seen a shadow of something similar on her friend Amy. If I call you twenty years from now and tell you to get us a private room somewhere because I want to do that to you again, you will do it, happily. And I will plow into your ass just like I did twenty minutes ago."Jason spent the night in Sarah's bedroom availing himself of her many talents. She woke him once to demonstrate her oral abilities. About an hour or so later, he awoke to find her astride him, driving her body down onto his. In the morning, she offered herself to him again, on her.