That should be enough for the night.’ She replied. ‘I’m not a big drinker.’ Teemu laughed. He looked deep into her eyes and said, ‘You’re ...going to get me into trouble, you know that don’t you?’ ‘I don’t know what you mean. How can I get you into trouble? We’re not doing anything but having a couple of drinks.’ She glanced his way, not wanting him to notice that she was a bit nervous. ‘You know I am very attracted to you, what man in their right mind wouldn’t be. You’re in great shape, gorgeous. .. indeed not even with the whores at the Sweating Bodies. Tonight will be my last chance of visiting paradise, so forbear calling on me until after nine tomorrow morning, when I will have made my slow, sorrowful, way home from her embrace. I will then hand over the ledger and the two paintings into your custody."We left him gazing at Paloma's picture, and returned to The Woolpack.Next morning we set out for Professor Pompidou/ Whyte-Taylor's house as the clock struck 9. Approaching his house. With aide of more lubricant I inserted a second and third finger and stretched her back hole until I could easily slide my fingers in and out.I leant down so my mouth was close to her ear. “Did my little slut clean her shit hole for me?” “Yes!” She hissed. “I had two enemas when I got home so my little shit-hole should be spotless. Oh God, you are really stretching my fucking asshole!” I knew she was ready so I greased the butt-plug and gently started to insert it. I could see her rosebud. “Your wish is my command, Mistress,” she said in her most sarcastic voice possible, before she returned to a cloud of light-blue smoke, which was sucked into Sophie’s handbag.“Now then, to business,” Brian said. “Now as you know, one of our goals is to collect genie lamps. Well, we’ve discovered another one. Or rather, we discovered it many years ago, but its owner refused to join us.”“Who is it?” Sophie asked.“Jacob Larson,” Brian replied. “Born in 1922, a British man living in the countryside.