It must be because of the wet shirt.”“It doesn’t look wet” I observed.Farah put a hand over the rise of her left breast and pinched the nub, �...�Your right, it isn’t.” She took the bottle of beer and rolled it across one breast then the second. The heavy, cold condensation clinging to the glass soaked the shirt over her nipples. When she was done, she had a wet spot at the end of each breast, her nipples stood rigid against the chilled wet cloth.“Now how do I look?”I looked her over from hair to. Christmas was approaching up on the surface and down here things always got busy. The large number of drunk drivers killing themselves and their fellow commuters meant we always had a higher than average monthly intake in the New Souls Department. The Thanksgiving holiday meant Christmas was less than a month away, and Lucifer always in a bad mood during December.About two weeks before Thanksgiving, Simon called me into his office. This wasn’t too unusual for in the past 50 years, I had become. More

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