You know, like in "getting your johnson up." I had tried "Mr. Goodwench" for a while, but that got me more laughs than professional respect."You come ...ighly recommended, Mr. Johnson. I have this problem, and I hope you can..." Ma'am, are you aware that weekends are time-and-a half? And house calls run an extra fifty on top of that." Money's no object. I need help and I need it now. How soon can you get here?"I went through the hurry-up drill. A quick shit and a shower and a shave. Squeaky clean. His skin was oiled and shining, deeply tanned, his honey coloured skin set off by the whiteness of the room, and the sunlight pouring in. The man crossed the room to Mistress Trixy and bowed deeply to her. “Good morning, Stud,” Mistress Trixy purred, as she reached forward and raked her nails across the young man’s heaving, muscular pecs. “Good morning, Mistress,” the slave replied. Peter noticed from his kneeling position that the large bulge in the man’s pouch grew larger still at Mistress. I idly wondered if creapazoid knew his girl there had been posing nude. Probably did, god knows he hadn't been willing to tell me diddly. Odd, that, most people can't wait to unload their story of woe. But then everything was odd about this one.+++Even a computer can't take the place of pounding pavement and the meta-search was going to take a while to filter through things. The address the creepazoid had given me was halfway across the city, not a great part of town but not bad either. A. The elected a leader who organised the creation of a temporary shed to imprison the men and control them. The men were seduced one night by the women and plied with drink which had been rescued from the ship . Once the men become so drunk that they fell asleep they were carted off to the prison never to ever be released again.The women prospered and were able to colonise the other islands build roads and buildings developing into villages, towns and capital cities this was achieved by.