Then the shoes, and finally,the tights and some black satin and mesh panties. She now stood in frontof me with a far more realistic figure, completely...naked.Helpless, I was lifted into a sitting position against the couch. A lumpformed in my throat as she grabbed the bra again and applied somethingfrom a bottle in her bag. She held it open before me and I desperatelytried to speak, plead, beg, as she started to feed my useless, limp armsthrough the straps."It's time for your turn to be Felicity. ”“I know. Assume for now that the brothel was in Chicago. That could narrow the paper chase down. But first I’ll check on the date of her papers, that should tell us.”Parallel to Cathy’s digital efforts, I went old school. Daddy. He gave me a Madison number to call, “Artie Kowlinski. Good guy. Smart. I met him at an FBI profiling session.”Mr. Kowlinski remembered Daddy. Most people on both sides of the law do.“I’m retired now, hon, but I still know a few people. How is Dave, anyway? Still. More

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