And besides, burn scars would be unsightly and red, whilstthese looked like they came from a surgeon's scalpel.*Have I had a boob job?* I wondered. *L...ots of women have them, but theyare normally older, in their late thirties and early forties or older.They shouldn't need them at my age. I can't be older then twenty. And whydo I have the scars down below, too? Something is wrong here. Somethingdoes not add up at all.*I looked for my clothes and found that the vast majority of them werevery girly. She started with her blouse, undoing the buttons slowly because she had their attention and could see their sense of anticipation. There were five of them and it probably took her about ten or fifteen seconds per button.Once finished she shrugged the blouse off her shoulders and allowed it to drop to the floor exposing her breasts. Both their gazes remained riveted on them as Vikki undid the catch and the zipper of her skirt. When she allowed it to drop to the she stood there naked posing. The antlered male allowed himself a minute to relax on top of and inside the witch, before straightening up with a sigh and stepping back, giving the girl a quick look-over as he rummaged around in the invisible cloak hanging on the throne for his elder-wood wand. The girl was a mess, to be honest, and would need at least a couple of hours rest before they could start up again.Shaking his head, bemused, Harry finally found the wand and with it vanished the antlers and leaves from his head. Why keep her waiting? Mike started toward the door and passed the dresser. He set the beer bottle down and his eyes were drawn to a diamond ring lying beside another, heavier, unadorned man’s ring. Mike picked them up. Both were lying atop an old photograph of a young couple. It took Michael a moment to recognize Miss Robin Walsh. Mike turned the photo over. It read: Phillip Jonathan Walsh and Robin Linda Barrett — 1989. Mike smiled. Robin had been married. He didn’t know why he had assumed.