It was a poorly designed hotel, but perfect for our needs. It was a good sized beautiful property in the woods, with a medium sized lake, next to a st...ate preserve with lots of trails. It was out of the way and already had tennis courts and a gym and various buildings we could repurpose. We planned to have our clients stay with us so the hotel rooms were convenient. And we had a small army of people who wanted to help make this a success, so putting our house on the market was an easy decision,. Everything was on view to anybody if the doors opened. The elevator stopped at another floor and the doors opened to two dumbstruck men looking at us with their mouths open, watching me with my tits, stockings, ass and cunt on show being frigged and groped by two men. The doors closed again without them getting in (their bad luck), and by the time we had got to our floor they had got my dress and thong off leaving me in just my black stockings, suspenders, and high heels, and they were mauling. “Not here.” He threw the book back at her and stormed out. It was just as well that the patrol officer didn’t know that this particular book was a con. It was maintained daily as if it was real, but every name in it was fake. It was there for this very purpose, of putting off partners of domestic abuse victims. The fact that it also put off the Patrol was a very useful bonus. In reality they didn’t have a register, that was far too dangerous. Despite the existence of the fake register, it was. “And it’s not a monthly get together; it’s a two or three times a month get together.”“I stand corrected,” he said. “Look, I can make it worth the man’s while.”“Money? He’d spit on it. Hell, he’d shit on it,” she said. “He could make a ton if he wanted. But he’s satisfied with the fifty or sixty annual he’s making. One thing that Lee Wyatt is not is greedy. He’s a good man Ian, and unless he catches us and kicks my ass to the curb, you and I are going to be on the few visits a month routine.