“Hi, Master,” I said. “How’s Mommy-slut’s big, strong son doing? Did you fuck Ms. Hiragawa?”“I did,” Clint said, that cocky grin sprea...ing across his lips. “And that’s not the only thing.” He grabbed Pam. “Doesn’t she look familiar?”I peered at Pam. She had those classic, Japanese features Clinton, and our son, loved so much: pale-olive skin, slanted eyes, a round face, delicate nose and cheekbones, a petite frame, a submissive look about her. There was something familiar. Vicky and I had. I tried to use the PC, to see if I could find something on my subject, but it was password protected. “Stupid computer!” I said, and continued on my mosey round. I went to the reception desk, but no one was home. I decided to wander around the volumes myself, hoping to work out where the English language section was. As I went between the aisles of books I was faintly aware of an odd noise. It was a sort of stifled, breathless grunt. As I passed geology and made my way towards chemistry the. More

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