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“That’s funny, considering you look kind of like his wanted posters,” the bounty hunter replied, showing a flier with a sketch of Noah in his hat and coat.Noah, who had taken a seat at the bar and lit a gonlief cigarette, huffed in faux annoyance. “Insult to motherfucking injury. He stole my wife and my look, and now I got little shitheads mistaking me for the guy I plan on skinning alive.”“And who are you?”

“Hold this,” she said. “I’ll hold your dick.” I have since seen many naked women in person, but Mrs. B. was one of the most memorable. Pure white, lightly freckled skin, perky B-cup tits, trimmed, fiery red pussy hair matching her long, red tresses. “Take a drink,” she invited, smiling warmly at me as she stroked my soapy shaft and played with my balls. The drink was vodka and OJ, strong but not incapacitating. I chugged about half and offered it to Mrs. B. She chugged the rest, set down the cup and returned to playing with my cock and balls.“God, you look beautiful, Mrs. B. So hot.”

“Well, with all the treatment you’ve given me since I arrived, I’m probably ahead of schedule. I can’t thank you enough for that. So, shall we all head to the Knight’s Sheath? I’m craving a drink and some good music.” She then began to laugh and stood behind Noah, rubbing his shoulders. “To think I’d reach this point in my life, spending all these evenings down in a brothel. You’re a horrible influence on me.”“You aren’t nearly as innocent as you pretend to be,” he teased.