I push aside her lips with my tongue and push up inside her pussy exploring her tunnel of love. I curl my tongue like a big straw and move deeper insi...de. She grabs my head and pushes down on me. Her juices are flowing again. I suck them up and drive in and out of her. She is groaning and moaning just loving my tongue. She starts rocking on my mouth as if my tongue were a cock. I feel her tensing up ready to explode. Geena is riding me faster. Her pussy is tensing up too and the roaring is back. I find women who will bring me a large profit when I sell them into slavery. I cannot do this openly. I have an employment agency that places women into secretarial positions in businesses. I do get a number of women who are better qualified to be secretaries than sex slaves. I do place them into businesses for that helps my cover story. I have developed a program that helps to rate a persons aptitude as a secretary or as a sex slave. I have one more appointment today. The woman rated very low. So no, Lindi Quinn really didn’t have any pathological aversion to these teeming outsiders. She simply held the small town opinion, usually kept politely to herself, that a large portion of them had the unfortunate tendency to behave like braying, jackass jackals. So she simply shook her head, and tried to ignore the noise and keep on with her reading. ‘Oh that’s so mean! Somebody should stop that.’ The speaker was Cassy Lynn, a pretty brunette who’d never had the backbone to stand up and stop. She looked at the card intently for a moment, then stuck it in her pants. The radio on Ed McCarley’s belt came to life: ‘2141.’ He slipped the radio free of it’s holster and brought it to his mouth. ‘2141, go ahead.’ ‘2141. 17B Main and Oaklawn, possible fatalities.’ ‘2141, 10/4,’ he said into the radio, and he turned to Sara Wood: ‘Sorry, gotta go. Really. If you need me, call me!’ And he was gone, trotting out the door. She watched him as he got into the car, the red and blue lights turned.