"Why--why'd'you let him?"Mabel stroked George's head absently. "You--you know why--you know what they--what she--pays me!"He didn't answer."How much d...you think I'd get for just being a cook?" she asked, bitterly. "You know that I hafta do it." She bent down, looked into George's face. "And you do things, too, George--she makes you do things, doesn't she?" That's different," he muttered. He slipped his hand under Mabel's skirt, found bare thigh-flesh, then slid his fingers inside her panty-. Yvonne, filing away the little nugget of information that Ingrid had let slip, asked: “What's in the trunk?”“Clothes. Jumpsuits. Keys. The trunk is padlocked,” Ingrid walked over to where the EMT's were manhandling a large metal box with a padlock on the lid. “We leave in the ambulance, lock the banquet door behind us and in 30 minutes or so I will message you the combination so you can cover your dignity, and no one is any the wiser.”There was silence.“It is a good deal, ja?”Yvonne went to. More

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