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30 March, First Session (part one, new arrivals, a missing person)
Michael is escorting a caravan west, to a small frontier town built around an old fort. Originally used as a post for the Dwarven Empire to guard against the Savages of the West, the fort was abandoned for a time; but with the recent Southern victory against the North, human refugees have steadily moved to frontier towns such as these. Michael is on foot, walking at the front of the caravan with another gunman named Saul. Saul is decent company--he barely ever speaks, and never more than necessary.
Michael, a Tetragene of dark complexion, walks with his upper set of arms crossed and his lower set hanging loosely at his sides. His two normal eyes are closed, and his upper third eye is squinted and looking ahead. On his body he wears a custom-tailored tan duster, the front open and revealing his bare chest, and a pair of tan cotton pants on. Strapped to his waist are four revolvers, two in cross-draw positions, and two in straight-draw positions just behind them.
DM62: It's evening, and rain is pouring down upon the caravan. Walks-Softly, the expedition's native guide, returns to the front of the expedition from scouting ahead. "Not far. One hour, or two. Sign." He points ahead to a wooden sign, worn and barely visible a little ways ahead of the group. Saul gives a small nod, and the guide disappears further down the trail again.
Michael: "Tellin' you, Saul, this rain is going to be the death of us." Michael says as he continues walking, his two eyes opening to look around at the terrain as they walk.
DM62: Saul's response is a nod, followed by spitting a black and foul spittle onto the mud--he's chewing tobacco as usual. Saul wears two pistols in a heavy sash, cross-draw, and carries a large bowie knife in his boot. Within a few moments, Saul and Michael can read the sign: "Fort Wilreph" on top, then "one mile" under it in smaller writing. Saul shrugs at the sign, continuing. The caravan is moving along behind the guards at its usual slow pace.
Michael looks at the black gunk Saul spit out, shaking his head as he looks ahead, hoping to see the fort soon.
DM62: Saul and Michael arrive at a fork in the trail, and can look down to see the town situated in a small valley. Above it, to the right along the same ridge that the caravan is on, is the desiccated ruins of the old wooden fort. To the left, the trail runs left and right down a series of switchbacks, designed to prevent rain and use from turning the trail into an eroded stream. Saul spits again, and points down the trail to the left. "Atta way."
Michael nods and follows Saul's urging, his upper arms still folded over his chest as they lead the Caravan onward.
DM62: The town is built along a single muddy main road, with secondary roads running on either side through the town, and alleys between the buildings every so often. Almost every door is closed, though lights can be seen within. A little ways into town, the caravan's leader, Marcus, rides up atop his brown stallion. "Gentlemen, a job well done." He hands a small sack of coins to Saul, and another one to Michael. "Twelve dollars on arrival, plus the twelve you got at the start. I recommend Sal's Saloon--you can get a cot for the night, and someone to keep it warm for you, too." The fat merchant rides back to get the caravan ready to disperse.
Michael takes the sack of coins and stores it in one of his duster's pockets, nodding at Marcus "You take care." he says, before the merchant walks off, and the Tetragene heads towards the saloon.
DM62: Saul shrugs and pockets the pouch, then walks to the saloon behind Michael. The saloon itself is clean and dry. A well-fed minotaur is working behind the counter, serving drinks to a few patrons. He's huge--clearly strong and muscular, but sporting a massive pot-belly as well. He snorts at the two new arrivals. "Wipe the mud off your boots and take your coats off, gents, or get the fuck out."
Michael enters and smirks, wiping his boots off on the outer edge of the door, and retrieving his money from his duster before taking it off, hanging it on a rack nearby. "Least you don't take one look at me and give me the boot." he says, walking towards the bar with an intent to get something to drink.
Willow: "They're pretty tolerant of odd ones, here." A woman spoke up from the far end of the bar. She was human, but clothed and adorned like Walks-Softly had been, in the style of the halfling natives, simple leathers and odd paint on her body, a necklace with a small skull hanging from her neck.
DM62: The minotaur stands to his full height, his horns almost brushing the ceiling. He pulls out a pair of small lockboxes, opening each with a different key. "You gents'll need to check your weapons. That knife, too." He then produces a bottle of whiskey. "And it looks like you've come a long way... I can take care of your drinks, or we have lovely girls like Willow that can address other needs. Just gotta pay me for the room, and Willow for... whatever. Five dollars a fuck, plus two more if you plug a girl in the ass. And if you want, you can buy a bottle off me and take it with you and one of our ladies. The deluxe service." He snorts, eyeing the weapons suspiciously.
Michael reaches his hands down to draw his weapons out by the cylinder rather than by the handle, holding them out to place in one of the boxes, before reaching back behind him and pulling a pair of thick hunting knives out from crossed sheathes on the back of his belt to also put inside of the box. "Willow, huh? Where'd a Human get a name like that? And why's she all trussed up like one'ah them?"
DM62: Saul also complies with the weapons rule. The large minotaur locks the boxes, handing a key to Michael and a key to Saul. "You don't claim these in five days, we keep your weapons. As for Willow's name and story... well, you should probably ask her. As long as you pay for her time, first." He places the locked boxes under the counter. "You gents be wanting that drink?"
Michael: "Now that I know how good the prices are, I think I'll pay for a night with her." Michael says, doling out the appropriate money and pointing a thumb at Willow.
Willow: "Hehe, the story is usually part of the deal, aye. I will tell you though, It's not as worthwhile as the rest." She said with a knowing smirk, which broadened some as he agreed to pay, giving a gracious nod.
DM62: "Whoa there. You just give me a dollar for the room for the night. You don't give the five to me... I ain't gonna fuck you. You give the five to Willow. Or seven." He takes one dollar from the pile of money, putting it in something behind the wooden bar.
Michael clenches the money back into his hand, looking over at Willow. "What say we go ahead and get settled?" he asks, taking his key in one of his other hands.
DM62: Saul settles himself at the bar, buying a bottle for himself. A slender elf female offers him her services, which he turns away with a grunt and a head shake. He pours himself a shot, the first of many. The minotaur (whom Willow would know as "Gorey" Jimmy, or just "Gore") begins polishing an unoccupied part of the bar with a rag, done with the Tetra for now.
Willow: The woman stood, looking up at him with a smile. "Absolutely. Right this way." She said, taking one of his hands and leading him towards a hall in back. The third door on the left was hers, the woman opening it and leading him inside. A rather large bed occupied most of the space, but there were a few chairs as well, and a corner with a dresser for her own things. Plants dominated most of the walls, carefully grown from ornate pots lining them. "I think the chairs may not accommodate, but the bed is quite sturdy, I promise." She said in a playful tone, turning to face him once she shut the door. "So, what do you wish, hmm? Storytime, or something else?"
Deputy Loveless: Back in the town, a figure on a horse rides into the rain-soaked streets, a wide-brim hat and large duster coat helping to keep the figure from getting drenched. While there wasn't much to see of the figure beyond those two features, the hazel-brown braid down the back plus the substantial swell at the front helped identify a woman under this garb. Moving to a hitching post and securing the horse, the figure moves towards the bordello, but for a different mission than the men before...
Michael smirks as she leads him on, moving to sit on the bed when she offered. "How about a little of both? You tell me about that paint and that clothing while I ogle you. Then we get to have some actual fun." he says, leaning back and resting his lower hands on the bed behind him.
DM62: The minotaur looks up as the woman enters the saloon. "Evenin', deputy. You mind wipin' off them boots and hangin up your jacket? Sal's been in a mood, and she can't abide a mess." He stands, looking at the female deputy with about as much courtesy as a callous minotaur can muster.
Willow: "Works for me, mhmm." She said with a smile, standing in the open and shifting slightly, turning some to let him ogle all he wanted. "It's simple enough, really. I was raised by the locals. Story was they found me after a bandit attack on a caravan, only survivor. Raised me as their own, though I think I started looking over all their heads from my tenth year or so." She explained. "Even taught me their magic. I was gonna be one of their shamans."
Deputy Loveless: The deputy pauses at the door after entering before giving a short nod, sliding her boots on the mat and shrugging off the large duster coat. Underneath the coat was a simple pair of slats that fed into the boots, with chaps across those, a rawhide vest and a blouse struggling to contain the ample chest of the woman. She gave a groan as she shook her hat out, revealing a short set of horns and a pair of cow ears that was messed into her hair. Also noticeable is that this lass is a walking arsenal- a rifle, sawed-off shotgun and revolver all hang along her curves and back in various holsters and sling positions, all in easy draw reach. "Aw, what gave me away? Don't worry, I won't be long, pardner. Just need to ask if you've seen someone..."
Michael: "Oh? So how'd you end up charging handsome gentlemen like me for a night alone with you, hm?" Michael says, observing her and actually moving to stand slowly. "Not that there's anything wrong with that. You're a damn sight better than some of the other Frontier working women I've seen." he says, approaching her from behind, though keeping his hands to himself for the moment.
DM62: "Gorey" Jimmy is unable to resist staring at the ample breasts of the deputy. Unable to tear his eyes away from her chest for more than a few moments, he stammers a little. "Uh, come on, deputy. I... uh... never forget a face. But how can I have... I mean, how can I help you?" He exerts an incredible amount of will to look the deputy in the eyes for a moment.
Willow: "That bits... A little more personal, I fear." She said in a sadder tone, leaning in towards him a bit. "But suffice it to say, I won't be going back any time soon. I do thank you for the compliment, though." She added quickly, her tone brightening again.
Deputy Loveless: The deputy moves to the bar herself now, giving him a slightly sour look, as if she's tired of this being one of the first reactions someone sees of her. "I got wind of some feller having moved into the gambling rings round these parts. Some dapper southern snake who's clearing the houses out of even the pennies before they can even tell that he's swindling them. This feller wouldn't have happened to have pass through and have a go at your customers, did he?" she asks, leaning onto the bar, with the added side effect being her curved backside was giving a bit more prominence to the lucky gents behind her, and a glimpse at the short, wispy cowtail that stuck out from under her chaps.
Michael smirks as she speaks. "Well, then, I hope they don't mind me putting my grubby hands all over you." he says, reaching his upper arms around to fondle her breasts, his lower hands moving around her waist to reach down towards her more erogenous zone. "You ever sleapt with a Tetragene before, darlin'?" he asks as his hands grope her breasts through her clothing.
DM62: Jimmy pours a whiskey shot for himself and one for the deputy. "On the house, ma'am." He clears his throat. "I, uh... I ain't seen nobody like that round here. And I... don't think you'll ever see them round here, either." He raises his shotglass, hoping to share a drink with the buxom lawwoman. "And I mean... ever again. Ma'am."
Deputy Loveless: Loveless takes the glass, giving him a withering stare. "'Ever again'? Come on, Jimmy. If ya seen him, lemme know and I'll stuff him where he belongs. Stuffed in the huscow with all the other swindlers and vipers." She glances behind herself reflexively, ensuring that it's not just her figure that's giving her that crawling 'being watched' feeling.
DM62: Jimmy leans over the bar, moving close to the cowgirl. He looks her in the eye, a little nervously. "You... ain't followin' me, deputy. I ain't seen nobody like that. Ain't nobody here seen nobody like that. People like that... sometimes they just move out of town and never, ever come back. You... uh... you understand? You're wasting your time."
Willow: "Mmm, I'm sure they don't." She said softly, leaning into him as he started to slide his hands over her. "To be honest, I have not even met one, before. You seem to know what you're doing, though." She purred, her own hands sliding behind her to run across his belly and the sides of his hips, rubbing her own hips across his thighs.
Michael: "I make it a point to spend the first of my earnings on a woman in every new town I come across." Michael says, holding her against him as he grips at her lower clothing "What do you say we get you out of this stuff and I can show you just how good a Tetragene can be with his hands?"
Deputy Loveless: She frowns, giving a light swill of the drink. "In that case... You wouldn't happen to have heard the not-existing direction this person you never seen or heard of, would you?" she says simply. "Because with or without you, I got a job to do myself, sir. Take or leave it, I don't care, but obstruction of justice?" A low whistle leaves her lips. "Well, a place like this could get shut down for that. Bit of a shame..."
Willow: "Oh my, how generous." She giggled. "I think we shall. But let's free you as well. Perhaps I'll show you a thing or two new, as well." She teased, spinning in his grip to face him, a sultry grin on her face.
DM62: Jimmy snorts, downing his whiskey shot. "Deputy... we been here for a while. And you know that Sal... and Sheriff Felborn... are close. You might also notice that while the Sheriff asked you to look into this, he ain't lookin' none too hard himself. He's gonna give you a hard time when you can't find this... person. And then nobody will ever talk about it again." He pours another shot for himself. "Think about it, deputy."
Michael's hands loosen as she spins in his grip, moving to grip at her buttocks and his upper hands working to free her of her top. Soon, his lower hands drift up to help remove her own clothing, making no effort to stop her from putting her own hands on his body and clothing. "I make it a point to make sure I give as good as I get, even with working women." he says, arousal apparent in his voice as his third eye closes.
Michael, a Tetragene of dark complexion, walks with his upper set of arms crossed and his lower set hanging loosely at his sides. His two normal eyes are closed, and his upper third eye is squinted and looking ahead. On his body he wears a custom-tailored tan duster, the front open and revealing his bare chest, and a pair of tan cotton pants on. Strapped to his waist are four revolvers, two in cross-draw positions, and two in straight-draw positions just behind them.
DM62: It's evening, and rain is pouring down upon the caravan. Walks-Softly, the expedition's native guide, returns to the front of the expedition from scouting ahead. "Not far. One hour, or two. Sign." He points ahead to a wooden sign, worn and barely visible a little ways ahead of the group. Saul gives a small nod, and the guide disappears further down the trail again.
Michael: "Tellin' you, Saul, this rain is going to be the death of us." Michael says as he continues walking, his two eyes opening to look around at the terrain as they walk.
DM62: Saul's response is a nod, followed by spitting a black and foul spittle onto the mud--he's chewing tobacco as usual. Saul wears two pistols in a heavy sash, cross-draw, and carries a large bowie knife in his boot. Within a few moments, Saul and Michael can read the sign: "Fort Wilreph" on top, then "one mile" under it in smaller writing. Saul shrugs at the sign, continuing. The caravan is moving along behind the guards at its usual slow pace.
Michael looks at the black gunk Saul spit out, shaking his head as he looks ahead, hoping to see the fort soon.
DM62: Saul and Michael arrive at a fork in the trail, and can look down to see the town situated in a small valley. Above it, to the right along the same ridge that the caravan is on, is the desiccated ruins of the old wooden fort. To the left, the trail runs left and right down a series of switchbacks, designed to prevent rain and use from turning the trail into an eroded stream. Saul spits again, and points down the trail to the left. "Atta way."
Michael nods and follows Saul's urging, his upper arms still folded over his chest as they lead the Caravan onward.
DM62: The town is built along a single muddy main road, with secondary roads running on either side through the town, and alleys between the buildings every so often. Almost every door is closed, though lights can be seen within. A little ways into town, the caravan's leader, Marcus, rides up atop his brown stallion. "Gentlemen, a job well done." He hands a small sack of coins to Saul, and another one to Michael. "Twelve dollars on arrival, plus the twelve you got at the start. I recommend Sal's Saloon--you can get a cot for the night, and someone to keep it warm for you, too." The fat merchant rides back to get the caravan ready to disperse.
Michael takes the sack of coins and stores it in one of his duster's pockets, nodding at Marcus "You take care." he says, before the merchant walks off, and the Tetragene heads towards the saloon.
DM62: Saul shrugs and pockets the pouch, then walks to the saloon behind Michael. The saloon itself is clean and dry. A well-fed minotaur is working behind the counter, serving drinks to a few patrons. He's huge--clearly strong and muscular, but sporting a massive pot-belly as well. He snorts at the two new arrivals. "Wipe the mud off your boots and take your coats off, gents, or get the fuck out."
Michael enters and smirks, wiping his boots off on the outer edge of the door, and retrieving his money from his duster before taking it off, hanging it on a rack nearby. "Least you don't take one look at me and give me the boot." he says, walking towards the bar with an intent to get something to drink.
Willow: "They're pretty tolerant of odd ones, here." A woman spoke up from the far end of the bar. She was human, but clothed and adorned like Walks-Softly had been, in the style of the halfling natives, simple leathers and odd paint on her body, a necklace with a small skull hanging from her neck.
DM62: The minotaur stands to his full height, his horns almost brushing the ceiling. He pulls out a pair of small lockboxes, opening each with a different key. "You gents'll need to check your weapons. That knife, too." He then produces a bottle of whiskey. "And it looks like you've come a long way... I can take care of your drinks, or we have lovely girls like Willow that can address other needs. Just gotta pay me for the room, and Willow for... whatever. Five dollars a fuck, plus two more if you plug a girl in the ass. And if you want, you can buy a bottle off me and take it with you and one of our ladies. The deluxe service." He snorts, eyeing the weapons suspiciously.
Michael reaches his hands down to draw his weapons out by the cylinder rather than by the handle, holding them out to place in one of the boxes, before reaching back behind him and pulling a pair of thick hunting knives out from crossed sheathes on the back of his belt to also put inside of the box. "Willow, huh? Where'd a Human get a name like that? And why's she all trussed up like one'ah them?"
DM62: Saul also complies with the weapons rule. The large minotaur locks the boxes, handing a key to Michael and a key to Saul. "You don't claim these in five days, we keep your weapons. As for Willow's name and story... well, you should probably ask her. As long as you pay for her time, first." He places the locked boxes under the counter. "You gents be wanting that drink?"
Michael: "Now that I know how good the prices are, I think I'll pay for a night with her." Michael says, doling out the appropriate money and pointing a thumb at Willow.
Willow: "Hehe, the story is usually part of the deal, aye. I will tell you though, It's not as worthwhile as the rest." She said with a knowing smirk, which broadened some as he agreed to pay, giving a gracious nod.
DM62: "Whoa there. You just give me a dollar for the room for the night. You don't give the five to me... I ain't gonna fuck you. You give the five to Willow. Or seven." He takes one dollar from the pile of money, putting it in something behind the wooden bar.
Michael clenches the money back into his hand, looking over at Willow. "What say we go ahead and get settled?" he asks, taking his key in one of his other hands.
DM62: Saul settles himself at the bar, buying a bottle for himself. A slender elf female offers him her services, which he turns away with a grunt and a head shake. He pours himself a shot, the first of many. The minotaur (whom Willow would know as "Gorey" Jimmy, or just "Gore") begins polishing an unoccupied part of the bar with a rag, done with the Tetra for now.
Willow: The woman stood, looking up at him with a smile. "Absolutely. Right this way." She said, taking one of his hands and leading him towards a hall in back. The third door on the left was hers, the woman opening it and leading him inside. A rather large bed occupied most of the space, but there were a few chairs as well, and a corner with a dresser for her own things. Plants dominated most of the walls, carefully grown from ornate pots lining them. "I think the chairs may not accommodate, but the bed is quite sturdy, I promise." She said in a playful tone, turning to face him once she shut the door. "So, what do you wish, hmm? Storytime, or something else?"
Deputy Loveless: Back in the town, a figure on a horse rides into the rain-soaked streets, a wide-brim hat and large duster coat helping to keep the figure from getting drenched. While there wasn't much to see of the figure beyond those two features, the hazel-brown braid down the back plus the substantial swell at the front helped identify a woman under this garb. Moving to a hitching post and securing the horse, the figure moves towards the bordello, but for a different mission than the men before...
Michael smirks as she leads him on, moving to sit on the bed when she offered. "How about a little of both? You tell me about that paint and that clothing while I ogle you. Then we get to have some actual fun." he says, leaning back and resting his lower hands on the bed behind him.
DM62: The minotaur looks up as the woman enters the saloon. "Evenin', deputy. You mind wipin' off them boots and hangin up your jacket? Sal's been in a mood, and she can't abide a mess." He stands, looking at the female deputy with about as much courtesy as a callous minotaur can muster.
Willow: "Works for me, mhmm." She said with a smile, standing in the open and shifting slightly, turning some to let him ogle all he wanted. "It's simple enough, really. I was raised by the locals. Story was they found me after a bandit attack on a caravan, only survivor. Raised me as their own, though I think I started looking over all their heads from my tenth year or so." She explained. "Even taught me their magic. I was gonna be one of their shamans."
Deputy Loveless: The deputy pauses at the door after entering before giving a short nod, sliding her boots on the mat and shrugging off the large duster coat. Underneath the coat was a simple pair of slats that fed into the boots, with chaps across those, a rawhide vest and a blouse struggling to contain the ample chest of the woman. She gave a groan as she shook her hat out, revealing a short set of horns and a pair of cow ears that was messed into her hair. Also noticeable is that this lass is a walking arsenal- a rifle, sawed-off shotgun and revolver all hang along her curves and back in various holsters and sling positions, all in easy draw reach. "Aw, what gave me away? Don't worry, I won't be long, pardner. Just need to ask if you've seen someone..."
Michael: "Oh? So how'd you end up charging handsome gentlemen like me for a night alone with you, hm?" Michael says, observing her and actually moving to stand slowly. "Not that there's anything wrong with that. You're a damn sight better than some of the other Frontier working women I've seen." he says, approaching her from behind, though keeping his hands to himself for the moment.
DM62: "Gorey" Jimmy is unable to resist staring at the ample breasts of the deputy. Unable to tear his eyes away from her chest for more than a few moments, he stammers a little. "Uh, come on, deputy. I... uh... never forget a face. But how can I have... I mean, how can I help you?" He exerts an incredible amount of will to look the deputy in the eyes for a moment.
Willow: "That bits... A little more personal, I fear." She said in a sadder tone, leaning in towards him a bit. "But suffice it to say, I won't be going back any time soon. I do thank you for the compliment, though." She added quickly, her tone brightening again.
Deputy Loveless: The deputy moves to the bar herself now, giving him a slightly sour look, as if she's tired of this being one of the first reactions someone sees of her. "I got wind of some feller having moved into the gambling rings round these parts. Some dapper southern snake who's clearing the houses out of even the pennies before they can even tell that he's swindling them. This feller wouldn't have happened to have pass through and have a go at your customers, did he?" she asks, leaning onto the bar, with the added side effect being her curved backside was giving a bit more prominence to the lucky gents behind her, and a glimpse at the short, wispy cowtail that stuck out from under her chaps.
Michael smirks as she speaks. "Well, then, I hope they don't mind me putting my grubby hands all over you." he says, reaching his upper arms around to fondle her breasts, his lower hands moving around her waist to reach down towards her more erogenous zone. "You ever sleapt with a Tetragene before, darlin'?" he asks as his hands grope her breasts through her clothing.
DM62: Jimmy pours a whiskey shot for himself and one for the deputy. "On the house, ma'am." He clears his throat. "I, uh... I ain't seen nobody like that round here. And I... don't think you'll ever see them round here, either." He raises his shotglass, hoping to share a drink with the buxom lawwoman. "And I mean... ever again. Ma'am."
Deputy Loveless: Loveless takes the glass, giving him a withering stare. "'Ever again'? Come on, Jimmy. If ya seen him, lemme know and I'll stuff him where he belongs. Stuffed in the huscow with all the other swindlers and vipers." She glances behind herself reflexively, ensuring that it's not just her figure that's giving her that crawling 'being watched' feeling.
DM62: Jimmy leans over the bar, moving close to the cowgirl. He looks her in the eye, a little nervously. "You... ain't followin' me, deputy. I ain't seen nobody like that. Ain't nobody here seen nobody like that. People like that... sometimes they just move out of town and never, ever come back. You... uh... you understand? You're wasting your time."
Willow: "Mmm, I'm sure they don't." She said softly, leaning into him as he started to slide his hands over her. "To be honest, I have not even met one, before. You seem to know what you're doing, though." She purred, her own hands sliding behind her to run across his belly and the sides of his hips, rubbing her own hips across his thighs.
Michael: "I make it a point to spend the first of my earnings on a woman in every new town I come across." Michael says, holding her against him as he grips at her lower clothing "What do you say we get you out of this stuff and I can show you just how good a Tetragene can be with his hands?"
Deputy Loveless: She frowns, giving a light swill of the drink. "In that case... You wouldn't happen to have heard the not-existing direction this person you never seen or heard of, would you?" she says simply. "Because with or without you, I got a job to do myself, sir. Take or leave it, I don't care, but obstruction of justice?" A low whistle leaves her lips. "Well, a place like this could get shut down for that. Bit of a shame..."
Willow: "Oh my, how generous." She giggled. "I think we shall. But let's free you as well. Perhaps I'll show you a thing or two new, as well." She teased, spinning in his grip to face him, a sultry grin on her face.
DM62: Jimmy snorts, downing his whiskey shot. "Deputy... we been here for a while. And you know that Sal... and Sheriff Felborn... are close. You might also notice that while the Sheriff asked you to look into this, he ain't lookin' none too hard himself. He's gonna give you a hard time when you can't find this... person. And then nobody will ever talk about it again." He pours another shot for himself. "Think about it, deputy."
Michael's hands loosen as she spins in his grip, moving to grip at her buttocks and his upper hands working to free her of her top. Soon, his lower hands drift up to help remove her own clothing, making no effort to stop her from putting her own hands on his body and clothing. "I make it a point to make sure I give as good as I get, even with working women." he says, arousal apparent in his voice as his third eye closes.