I went to sleep last night, wishing I had pulled my jeans down and bent over to take your cock deep in my pussy. That was the first time in my life I ...as ever even tempted to strip naked and take pics of myself. Here I am again this morning, at a horse boarding stable, about to step into the tack room and take naked selfies.”“I like naked women sitting on saddles ... or even bent over saddles with their naked butts ready for me.”“I’ll fix your ass, Ray Harrison!” she said, slamming the door. Luckily the warehouse was empty except for a shiny black car. We loaded up in Michael's Model A Sedan and looked for a clue to tell us where we were. Using a map found in the glove box, we found Michael's house in the French Quarter in only a short while. His keys let us into his house and found his housekeeper/slave, Yvonne.I had Bert tie her up and put her into her rooms until I could question her. I intended to probe her for Michael's mind controls that I was sure would be there. I hoped. The young policeman’s parents mourned, his mother now on tranquillisers, her emotions numbed by the pills, not caring of life anymore. Her husband watching as his wife of thirty years faded before his eyes. A double loss. The surfer moved on, finding another, but never forgetting his lover. Secretly mourning his loss, for he knew that was what Clive would have wanted. His parent’s memory kept intact believing what they wanted, his sexuality not pulled out of the closet, and this was his last. ‘Ma’am?’ The word was a question asking for permission to approach. The word made Marie jump, but slowly she turned around, wiping her tears, wanting to see the face of the man intruding in her private moment. He was tall and dark, his hood up against the snow that had once again begun to fall. However, she could see his eyes, and they looked concerned. More concerned than a stranger would normally be. ‘Ma’am. I know this is a place of mourning, and I respect that. But you will get blocked in.