The boss bitch, the older woman who had directed Iman's torture, watched the women line up. For the first time, Iman saw how many there were, thirty t...hree, including herself. All had had their hair removed, though some had some fuzz growing back. They ranged in age from teens to middle age. One looked no older than twelve, with an almost flat chest. They formed into a line, stood at attention, shivering in the chill air. The boss bitch strolled along the line, perhaps counting the prisoners,. I could even feel the moisture between my thighs when I took a step.We stopped dancing, and he put his hands on my breasts, moving the flimsy dress material over my nipples and the roundness of them. His hands lifted them and cupped them as our lips met and parted for each other. His cock jutted out and brushed my mound. I dropped my hand and guided the tip to nuzzle the beginning of my slit. It was warmly sensual, standing there in the dark."Mmmmmm," I heard him moan against my lips. Our. The touch of his lips was light and tender, as though he were kissing our child. Afterward his eyes looked upward and caught mine. I could see my own joy mirrored in his eyes. My husband lingered there for several minutes, and then he moved down between my thighs. He kissed his way through my neatly-trimmed bush and brushed his full lips against the lips of my pussy. His powerful arms wrapped around my hips as he pulled the backs of my thighs against his shoulders. Then I felt his hot, wet. "Sally had a worried look on her face when she handed me back my phone."She doesn't sound right. She sounds dopey ... sleepy. Something's wrong, Rick. I need to go there." Not without me," I said. "Pack a bag ... enough for several days. We'll catch the shuttle out of Logan."I had withheld the information on Johnson deliberately so as not to upset Sally. I hadn't figured out what to do about it anyway, and to be honest with myself, I had stalled doing anything. By the sound of it, that time was.