‘Paddy, the boy who delivers groceries, comes in and sits with me on occasion.’ Opal raised her arm and patted the back of her hair. Her massive t...ts fought gravity not to drop. ‘Paddy likes to talk,’ she said with a wink. Moe imagined a fourteen-year-old boy, who had probably never seen more skin than his mother’s, being face-to-face with Opal in all her glory. The boy probably snooped out things to tell her. It’s what Moe would have done at fourteen. Seeing any female, even an Opal twenty. The facility is a four story blacked glass sprawl, covering at least fifty acres of prime woodlands. You are ushered in to a meeting room and told to wait by a blank-faced security guard who treats you like you're practically a prowler he caught in the lobby. A few minutes pass and a trio of dark suited figures enter the room. The youngest is a dark-haired woman with sharp Eastern European facial features and cold gray eyes that are probably implant jobs from Zeiss. She shakes your hand limply. More

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