Curiosity won out, and Biff held himself back from flash-beaming it to make sure it stayed dead. He approached and gingerly prodded the body with the bayonet on his B-AR. It was still among the living, or rather, she was. The soot-smeared uniform had colonel's insignia, but that was one pretty female inhabiting it. There was a spatter of blood, but nothing life-threatening. Then she opened her eyes, and he bitterly regretted admiring the twin cones of her tunic-clad breasts. She was pointing a recoil-pistol directly at him.So, I finally resign myself to spending the rest of my life alone, with no one to spend my royalty checks on. And what happens? At a book signing I was starting to doze off while some or other local dipshit droned on about what an honor it was to have me there. Some honor. Suppressing a yawn, I pulled out my trusty old ballpoint and looked up at the line of fans holding copies of "Ravished Planet," and... BOING. She was looking me right in the eye. I recognized. After about 20 minuets the woman appeared. ‘Its time for your massage dear.’ She handed Jena a silk robe, Jena smiled and followed the woman to the other room. The message room was lit with only candles and smelled of vanilla. The woman instructed Jena to lie on the table. Then she began to message Jena. She started at her shoulders, lowering the robe to expose the parts she was messaging. She worked her way slowly down to the small of Jena’s back and ever so close to her buttocks. The message was very sensual. Jena was feeling a little uneasy as the woman past her butt and began to message her legs. Deep penetrating grips into Jena’s muscles. Jena could feel herself, becoming slightly aroused when the woman messaged the inner thighs. The message lasted about 45 minuets. Then the woman showed Jena to a private room. In this room was a bed and a dressing area, with full-length mirrors. In the dressing area there was an outfit. A low cut pink blouse, and a black skirt. The woman.
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