"I have a pageant", she said, not looking at me. I barely stifled a demonic laugh."A pageant, huh?" I said mischievously, "Let me hear your pageant vo...ce". "No!" She exclaimed. "Haha, why not?", I asked, "I promise not to laugh". "Fine", she relented, then in the girliest, most sugar-coated voice I have ever heard she said,"Hi, I'm Sarah Matthews, and I'm a pageant girl". I was hard instantly, it was one of the most provocative things I'd ever heard. The innocence in that voice was almost. The yacht didn't look so beautiful to me anymore. It looked like a water bound prison. The fancy facade just an illusion to hide the sick goings on within. My empty stomach lurched. I didn't relish the idea of stepping aboard that boat again. I just wanted my clothes and to leave as soon as possible. This time it was the captain who helped me on board and lead me to the living area below decks. He retrieved my clothes from a plastic bag near the couch. I hadn't noticed it earlier but the bag. She was breathing hard, her luscious chest rising and falling. ‘If…if you…keep…keep doing that,’ she panted, ‘I’m going to come!’ ‘Isn’t that what we’re here for?’ Bobby asked, persisting with the caresses that were driving his lovely companion wild. ‘Mmmmmmm!!!!’ Helen murmured. Her hips began to rock in reaction to his caressing hand. The washcloth needed more lather, so Bobby re-soaped it. While he did, Helen started to slide her hands over her body. ‘Wash me more, Bobby!’ she said, her. “A couple of’em actually,” Hank said gathering his thoughts. “First off, we need to get with the NSA to get us copies of everything they have on the four captured sleeper agents. We need to build profiles on them and then we can move forward. With what’s in this...” He held up the dossier folder, “We might as well walk into Starbucks and start asking people if they’re a Russian sleeper agent.”Haspel snickered but kept making notes on her iPad.“Second, we’re going to have to make contact with.
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