The one I had just sent to the hospital had really pissed me off with his remark that he hated those greasy little yards, and would shoot one in a fir...fight if he didn't follow his orders. So far I had two seconds that any of my yards or myself could trust with our lives and to hear something like that from a fellow beanie pissed me off. I figured the Captain had already heard and was gonna chew my ass about that when and if I ever got to see him. The clerk kept giving me the fish eye every. .. stupid ... be running the company profitably? Maybe it was because I had grown up watching Robert Maitland and my father throwing back shots of single malt and rice baiju every Friday night as a kid, or the sage advice both men had given Paul and me during our teen years about never giving anything less than our best efforts, or maybe it was the little voice in my head that kept telling me that what we were being told just didn’t make any sense, but keeping my mouth shut and my head down. That night, I dreamt about her. In the dream I talked to her and invited her to lunch. We met and hit it off. I called work and said I wasn't coming back. She invited me over to her place. Her roommates weren't to be back until night. Inside the door I took her in my arms. We kissed. She led me to her bedroom. Clothes were falling, like discarded dreams, all the way down the hall. We fell into bed. We kissed. She went down on me. It was glorious. I went down on her and drove her to a thundering. ” I was stunned. “That’s different!” I gasped. “Is it?” Said Saela. “Quick! Tell me how!” “Because…. Because… Because shut up. Your tits are tiny!” It was at this moment a long leg snaked through the door, and my eyes rose to take in the form of the Gladiatrix, Tali-Tani-Tia. “Her’s might be. But mine AREN’T.” She boldly declared in that funny northern accent of hers, crossing to me in two strides and bending, dropping her massive knobs right on top of mine, rubbing their superior size in.
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