In my mind I envisioned I was being visually raped by every pair of eye in the room, the image causing wetness between my legs. A hand touched my face... caressing my cheek and running over my lips. The coarseness of the fingers told me it was a man. Another hand stroked my hair, while two more softly examined my breasts. I reach out, searching for the hands touching my breasts. All hands pulled back. Paul stops me, saying not to reach out, we do all the touching. Paul drew my arms up over my. I may have dropped that dumbass agent right in the middle of the sons of bitches." Maybe not. They are suppose to have a man posted at the old sleugh bridges. The hangout is in an old logging cabin of some sort downstream." I know the place. It's inaccessable by road. I've thought about fixing it up for a hunting camp. It's a goddamn fortress. It's made out of native rock and hardwood. It has a sheet metal roof and narrow slot type windows. The place looks like it was made to withstand a full. More

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