"Um, yeah, I kinda work there." I felt weird saying it. He nodded. "Aren't you a little young, doll?" He replied and I smiled a bit. "Because I don't ...see you working at the counter, you're a pole dancer, aren't you?" I'm surprised you've watched me." I raised one of my brows, trying to hide my blush in my brunnete curls. He smiled. "So a pole dancer?" He asked and I began to get paranoid. "Yep. Just a drinking, dancing, fucking pole dancer." I said, grabbing my note pad I'd put onto his desk.. ..He stopped himself. He would phone her as soon as he had worked through his post.He filed all the adverts in the bin, dealt with all the business letters, sending emails to some and filing others. After an hour’s work he was left with a collection of letters which seemed personal.There was a stack of postcards and letters from his mother, and he set himself to read them in date order, after getting himself a coffee and some chocolate digestives. She was an entertaining writer and he enjoyed. And anywhere else you see a loose floorboard, or loose sheetrock on the wall. Try to think like a person that wants to hide something.”Well, it had been a good idea, he thought, as they walked away from the house. They’d found nothing except a old knife blade that Dylan had used to cut into the sheetrock here and there. Clipper led them to the next house. Time, at least, was on their side.On the fourth house they hit pay dirt, kind of. Some peeling wallpaper had led them to a loose piece of. "Good job, Val, how does that feel?" Valerie could barely make her mouth work, but she managed to stammer, "Real good, real good!" "That's my girl," her mom fairly beamed, "I guess we know now that your clit is working fine!" "I think it's important to note, that you keep playing with your tits with your free hand, because that just keeps stirring the pot in your pussy!" "Okay, that's good, twist them harder, yeah, that's right, do your clit a little.