They all left me laying there in my room, sore, abused and totally drained. I began to silently cry just a little. “My own Dad called me a slut. ...hat do I have to do to show him that I just like sex?” I thought.My mind went to the events that led up to this moment as I slowly undressed and wandered into the bathroom to run a tub of hot water. Maybe I can soak away all of the insults I have taken today. Maybe I can get those thoughts out of my head.I slipped below the warm water and I felt. He had bought a set of twenty, but said the retailer would supply as many fake keys as was required.Over the next few days Kelly contacted the retailer and asked about a lock and a hundred keys, suggesting it was for a prize draw. After adding, untruthfully, that it was for charity, the man sold her the set with a discount.Now Kelly looked at the keys in the box. Ninety nine keys that would not open the padlock. Ninety nine chances of being wrong. Only a single key would release her.She knew. I greeted her in the drive with a big hug, and a kiss. As I held her against me, I could feel her nipples straining against the thin material and poke into my chest.She wanted more!We went inside and I opened a bottle of Chenin Blanc and poured us each a glass. I brought out some fruit and cheese and we ate a nice casual lunch, talking about her job, and all the happenings around town. She was up on everything."Grab you glass. I'll bring the wine bucket, and we'll lay out on the deck."I brought. "Jim tried going official on her. "Look, this is Pinkerton business now. You need to butt out, girly ... if that's what you are -" He stopped, wide-eyed as her pistol was suddenly out of her holster, cocked and pressed against the second button of his vest."Millie is my friend," said Boots, her voice level. "I don't have to butt out of anything."The Pinkertons didn't hire faint-hearted operatives, and that became clear now. "Her name isn't Millie," he said, his voice just as level. "It's.
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