"War. What is it good for?" "There's a Hard Rain a Gonna Fall." "Eve of Destruction." But Psychlone wasn't here to drop tunes from the long dead Age o... Rock and Roll. This wasn't the time to invoke the mostly forgotten ghosts of Gil Scott-Heron, Woody Guthrie or Country Joe and the Fish. This was the time to drop the midrange, pump up the bass and accelerate the beats per minute.No one in the audience gave a fuck about the authorities. Any heavy-handed impulse to break up the gig would be. ’ Slade unzipped the first boot, then the other. He carefully set them to the side, the turned his attention to her feet. He massaged her right calf while softly kissing her foot. He traced his lips from her big toe up to her ankle, then did the same with the next toe, working his way over. After that, he kissed her sole, massaging her calf the whole time. Drake looked up at Mistress Raell, who had leaned back on the bed and had a relaxed smile on her face. Looking back at Slade, Drake. More

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