Her “work clothes” consisted of a hand-me-down pair of her momma’s cutoff jean shorts, 2-3 sizes too big, held up with a belt made of baler-twin.... On top was a worn out, thin, hand-me-down, wife-beater tank-top that Emmitt had given her to wear. He’d cut the bottom six inches off so she could wear it loose, or tie it up on one side so it wouldn’t hang. Either way, her tits were always just one slip away from being seen. Five minutes of sweating and the thin top was damn near see-through. Just. “Good, I wish I did, other than my past haunting me.”“You’re a lot better than you were,” he chuckled.“Well, yes,” she smiled. “At least you know who I am now.”“True, I couldn’t figure out who the lovely young lady was who was assigned by my superiors to me and tagging along with me during my investigations into minor misdemeanours by people against slaves. Particularly as you wore no insignia of rank, but could open security doors as if they weren’t there.”“The AIs said we were compatible. I. More

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