“But you’ve made me wait.” His voice dipped into a growl. “Five goddamn weeks. When we could’ve been here the first night.”“I didn’t k...now, I didn’t-”“You fucking did. Thirty five fucking days. I counted.”His hand slapped lightly against my snatch and the breath whooshed out of me. He did it again, harder and then three more times. I couldn’t close my legs to protect myself. I couldn’t use my hands. Every time I opened my mouth, his hand slapped down again, wet and stinging. I couldn’t explain. I didn't see the need to get copies of the orders awarding the citations in question so I don't have them at this time."Inspector Reach interrupted just then and said, "Your honor, may I approach the bench and show you my credentials?" You may," responded the judge.Inspector Reach walked up to the judges stand and handed him his ID folder with his NCIS ID and his badge.He said, "If necessary, I can provide the needed documentation to the court but if my word is good enough for now I'll vouch. I wasn’t into that but, it was interesting. He had already recruited a few black guys and (I found out that Georges – my old driver – was one of them) he was good looking, tall and hung – god was he hung! That’s why he’d been gone for so long; he lived in Antigua.I had a little bit of a tan; the first thing I had to do was loose that and, before the first session, not wear any lingerie. No marks from waistbands or bra straps. The tan wasn’t a problem because I had my mother’s skin; I could tan. "The company was out of business, declaring bankruptcy, so they had little they could do but to clean up the mess. It cost millions, I was told. More to the point, it got them testing wells on a more consistent basis and they discovered that many of them were in unsafe condition. They had contamination, usually from animal wastes, but sometimes from poorly done septic systems as well. All they can do is call it to the attention of the property owner and get them to abandon the well." So, what.