His jet-black hair was swept back from his forehead and fell to his shoulders. He wore skintight black jeans with several tears in them and a leather ...acket that hung open over his upper body, revealing no shirt underneath, and instead an impossibly chiseled, muscled chest and abs. He looked like some kind of model for a Death Metal rock band or something. She eyed him closely and he met her gaze with a casual grin. She shivered involuntarily; his eyes were unspeakably cruel and lustful. She. ”I asked the girl her name, and she looked at the bar man before she cleared her throat, sniffed and said, “Nancy, sir,” with another quick curtsey.“Don’t drop your knee to me, girl,” I told her. “We don’t do that on this side of the water.”“Sorry, sir,” she said quietly, almost doing it again.“Don’ you spoil ‘em, y’big galoot,” my sometimes-friend cried, slapping my shoulder. “I ain’ even broke ‘em good and proper.”Behind the girl, another appeared, dressed and looking much the same, rather. More

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