Chapter 14

Choices had indeed been made. Eight topless, ten in super-sheer covers covering nothing and all gorgeous beyond compare.

They took my breath away. “Incredible. Poets don’t have the words to say how perfect you are. If she could capture a tiny fraction of what I see, any painter will consider it her masterpiece. Simply astounding.”

Amy was the speaker. “We’re proud you think so, Sir. You protect us, shelter us and make most us feel valuable for the first time. When you say things like that, I just melt.”

“The day you rescued me, the time you made sure the triplets had a job and a place to live, saved Eve, all those things make me want to do anything to stay here in your house.” Patty took a turn. “I will.”

“We know how you feel about the old world ways, we really do.” Caralyn admitted, “But you care enough about us to let Suki, Mika, Yumi and me be who we are, who we want to be, no matter why. And then you fight to protect us even though you try to avoid violence. Can a girl feel more special than that?”

“What all of us are trying to say, boss, is ‘Happy Early Birthday’. The ladies at Bright Star, whom you pulled out of the fire also, spilled the beans. We might really go gift shopping before Saturday, but the best present we can think of is ourselves.” Max curtsied cutely. “The collars just make clear what we all feel about you. In a way, you made us all yours on our first day and make us try be better people for ourselves.”

“When you take what is yours, you’re really accepting what we need to give.” Jean said.

“You try to make us crazy sometimes, but it makes us crazier to do even more.” Jane added. “It’s fun to get crazy and let go completely.”

“None of us have done anything we didn’t want to do, even though we didn’t know we wanted it until it happened.” Ellie giggled. “Now I always want it. We like to see other girls want it.”

Leah chuckled, “And see other girls get it, too. It shows us what we look like when we’re getting fucked blind and boneless.”

“Honestly, you nailed us like fucktoys before we knew you were the hero we dreamed of for years. Anne opens the door and you open us without so much as a proper introduction.” Beth laughed.

“We got introduced all right!” Anne said, “After saying good bye to our cherries. What a super day!”

“It didn’t hurt that you were naked and ready when we got there, girl.” I laughed. “Patty and Max have the video to prove it.”

The door buzzer interrupted us. Amy took charge. “That must be supper. It’s going to be a lot, so let’s get the door, set the table and make drinks. Suppertime for our birthday boy!”

To my everlasting surprise, the Baker triplets and Tanaka sisters headed for the stairs. “Is it paid or do we get some money out of the desk?” Carol called out.

“It’s taken care of.” I answered, “Just crack the door enough to let the delivery people come in. Be careful not to show yourselves to people on the street. The police may not have collected all the bad guys. Then bring the stuff up.”

Those six wonderful girls were totally topless, the Bakers in the see-through skirts and the Tanakas in the swimsuits that emphasized their tits. I watched the lovely emphatic titties bounce and bobble out of sight. The flexing butt cheeks on the Bakers had a lot to say also.

No one knew who would be on the other side of the door, though I figured Amy suspected because I didn’t stop the near naked girls and I don’t share well with others. She smiled and went to the dish cabinet. “Hot or cold?”

“Hot, if it wasn’t delayed too much. It will be OK in the microwave if it was.”

Ice was put into glasses. Wine coolers, Chianti, vodka and fruit juices began to appear.

Laughter and squeals drifted up the stairs. Karen and Irina discovered another six sets of boobs in my house. My girls discovered Karen and Irina. They knew Karen was cool, something learned in the intra-moblet gossip.

The much more reserved Irina was late breaking news.

My topless girls appeared, giggling, red faced, toting eight large shopping bags, followed by the two worst Cold War spy get-ups ever. Out dated hats, sunglasses, floor-length, over-sized trench coats, dragging the ground, and above-the-ankle Doc Maartens. ‘Mad Magazine’, ‘Maxwell Smart/Agent 86’, ‘Monte Python’ grade spy costumes.

The Bakers and Tanakas hustled the bags, three with tossed salads and dressings, one with cannolis, two with three gallons of Chianti each, one full of giant calzones, and one with huge strombolis, to the table. All the teens began to unpack the bounty.

Six gallons of wine were in two bags.

The calzones, long sides together, formed a 12-inch circle. All had ricotta and mozzarella, plus assorted meats, marinara sauce on the side. The strombolis, 3-inch cylinders, 12-inches long, contained pepperoni, salamis, American bacon and onions with a touch of sauce, smelled super.

Did I mention the 768 ounces of excellent Chianti?

There were stupid amounts of greens, cherry tomatoes, shaved carrots, diced avocados, mixed nuts, sliced banana peppers, black and green olives, anchovies, cheeses, boiled eggs, bell peppers, red onions, packed separately, buffet-style. Honey-mustard, Balsamic Italian and Roquefort cheese dressings in pint jars came out of the sacks next, with olive oil and red vine vinegar.

The thirty-six vanilla and chocolate filled cannolis were going to kill us all, if the wine failed. I’m talking more than a quart each.

I called Romero’s. “My god, Sergio. Are you trying to...”

“Shut up. Eat. Drink. Enjoy. Grandchildren. It’s a zoo here. Tomorrow.” Conversation over. At this point he would let me fuck his eldest daughter brainless over the show table in the window, tossing pizza shells for the tourists. He was a persistent old guy. The bloodline must go on.

Laughing silently, I tossed the phone to the nearest chair. “OK Karen. Why the spy suits? You know they’re just awful, don’t you?”

“Ah ha! The plan worked!”

“No it didn’t, Karen. You said we looked like 1940’s newspaper reporters. You wanted to blend with the street mobs.”

Carol laughed out loud. “Epic fail! We thought you were two cross dressing bag ladies.”

“I recognized Karen from Amy’s description: Red hair, 5’7”, looks a little like Jenny. Didn’t get a look at the boobs to see if they were like hers.” Mika grinned. “The short stuff street lady was a mystery.”

“Short stuff, my round ass! I tower over your tiny self by two inches, at least, Ill have you know!” Irina was fun. She was also about 5’1”, probably built like Ellie under the topcoat, with hazel eyes and strawberry blond hair. My type, just like Karen said that night in the doorway.

“Where’s a rimshot when you need it” I smiled. “In case it got past you girls, this is July in New York City. Loose the disguises and have supper with us. Sergio doesn’t want you back. His words: “Eat. Drink. Enjoy. Grandkids.”

“He never gives up, but Papa’s right about staying. It is a zoo out there. The whole 24-hour news universe is between Lincoln Center and 78th Street. You can’t throw a dead gangster without hitting a cameraman. We had to camp up the costume or it would have been moth and flame time all the way here,” She sat to loose the shoes.

Irina suddenly went mute and turned a cute pink, staring daggers at Karen. She regained her voice. “You said this commando walk was going to be so cool. I thought so, too. Maybe not so much now, smarty. We can’t leave.” She sat and started on the shoes. “These are too big. I’m going to get blisters.”

The reasons for not shedding the coats were becoming clear, not unlike Caralyn’s thin Japanese dress and the Bakers tangled robes. This sounded to me like an empty, pro forma, excuse. Blisters? But the Bright Stars coached me in the school of naked tits for modesty and I had my own field experience to fall back on. Wonder if courtesy worked as well as modesty. Just sayin’...

Taking off the hat and shades, Karen said, “Don’t chicken out now. Mark loves this shit. Look what the cuties weren’t wearing when the door opened.”

“Not so much, the seeing. The look-alike peeped out a crack first. You didn’t even notice they were naked from the waist up until we dragged the bags all the way in.” The shoes were off.

Karen gently removed Irina’s hat and shades, freeing her light red/blonde hair to cascade past her shoulders. Next came the five buttons on the trench coat and the five on her own. “You know you want to, sweetheart. We’ll do it together.”

She turned Irina and herself to face the amused audience. Both she and her girlfriend shrugged off the coats, standing naked before the bemused crowd. Shaven, excited, blushing madly, Irina uttered softly, “Ta da!” Karen pirouetted and giggled.

“See, Rina. It makes you crazy and hot. What a rush!” That girl embraced her exhibitionist side joyfully. “Your nips are harder than I’ve ever seen.”

“Can I get dressed before I faint from embarrassment?”

I jumped in the game. “You don’t really want to or you would have brought normal street clothes. They’re all back at Romero’s on purpose, aren’t they? You gave yourself no choice. It makes you wet thinking strangers can touch your tits.”

“You’re busted big time, pretty girl, give it up. He sees right through you. Trust me, I walked my talk. Or to be exact, I was escorted through my talk.” Caralyn advised. “It was a long hike on a rough road and I’ll take it again any day of the week. Maybe Master will let you wear a skirt like mine?”

“No, I won’t. Wouldn’t dream of it. It would be terribly rude to spoil her plan. She and Karen wanted us to see their tempting bodies, perhaps more than see, if I know Karen. And I do and did, in all ways.”

Irina was squirming like a girl cornered into staying openly naked in public. She was caught in her own plot. My girls were barely able set out Sergio’s feast without falling down.

“They would be disappointed if they felt forced to cover up those fine little ‘B’-cup handfuls to politely accept our generous hospitality. It will be much more considerate to let both stay naked all night. I’m accommodating that way. Mom raised me to be a good courteous host.”

Pink turned into scarlet. Karen fell over on the sofa, choking on her giggles. I diverted. “You have a Russian name, but you’re folks are really from Germany. It’s the very slight accent. Family trapped until Reunification?” I asked in German using the Voice.

Irina answered in kind, grateful for the chance to ignore her hopelessly continuing nakedness for a few minutes, “No. They slipped out before. Me? First generation American, born in Milwaukee. You speak German?”

“That’s pretty obvious, Irina. Listen closely, try to keep up.” Jean laughed. “So do Jane and I. Germans in our farming community. We learned in school and with friends.”

“We spoke Deustche to the nuns. Made them crazy. Knew in their pious little hearts we were summoning the Devil.” Jane laughed. “We were Pagans then. But we found him, and Mark bedeviled us all over. Now we’re secular Pagan Amsterdamians.”

Switching the Voice back to English, “Now that we’ve gracefully accepted your decision show us your titties, which incidentally are fun to see, especially the way your nipples get all hard and pointy when you see us see them, why don’t we all sit down and enjoy this dinner? Sergio says you made the marinara sauce.” I pulled out a chair and sat down to the mountain of delights my little Japanese girls had piled on my plates. Yes, plates. The mega salad was a Grand Teton on its own.

Amy stripped naked, announcing, “This looks messy. Why don’t we go easy on the washing machines, namely the Baxter twins, by all getting naked, too, and make our guests feel comfortable. Sir isn’t the only courteous host in this house.” Sixteen more naked and collared dinner companions instantly appeared, quickly resuming the destruction of the supper. Whoa! Only sixteen?

I advised the naked girls that once an article of clothing was off, it couldn’t be replaced until the next day. Naked tonight means naked until tomorrow. “Rules are to be followed.”

“What’s it like working in Mrs. Julietta’s kitchen?” It was hard to concentrate with Max under the table, pulling my boxer briefs off and trying to suck my dick down her throat at the same time. Missing persons alert cancelled. She kissed the head, and then shamelessly crawled out and back to her own chair. “Sergio told me you make a mean marinara.”

“Mrs. Julietta runs that place like a war movie drill sergeant. Swiss clocks are jealous.” Irina swallowed a mouthful of calzone, suddenly aware a squirt of ricotta landed on her tits. She tried a sip of wine but spilled it on Eve’s cheek while she was licking the cheese away.

“See, girls, naked is good when eating Italian. Sir should make it a rule.”

“Saves on napkins, too.” Eve added from Irina’s lap. Karen was cracking up. Apparently she had no problem with my girls taking liberties with her girl. Evidence of a greater agenda?

Irina, breathing rapidly, tried to finish. “Mrs. Julietta tasted my sauce pot and didn’t bite my head off, so I guess it passed her test.”

“I can testify, she has a nice sauce pot.” Eve, from her lap again. Karen was about to choke on her stromboli.

She took another much larger sip. “Mrs. Julietta didn’t say anything, just looked me in the eyes, almost nodded and walked away. She went nuts on the Haitian kid layering lasagna. He only grinned and kept going.”

Karen innocently looked up from her stromboli. “That kid would run most Italian chefs out of town. If Mama didn’t snatch the tray away, it means she likes it and wants him to be better than best. He knows it and loves that she finds him good enough to care. She tells him grandmama secret stuff she doesn’t write down.” My old fuckbuddy looked Irina straight in the eyes. “If Mama said nothing and walked away, it means she approves of you and likes your sauce better than her own. At Romero’s, there is no higher praise.”

Now, Irina was beaming brighter than the sun.

“Sounds like Mr. Romero runs the business and your Mama runs the restaurant,” Sam said.

“Got it in one, girly. She, and an aunt each at Montauk, West Hampton and East 86th Street, run all the kitchens as tight as Dick’s hatband. Gotta be genetic in the deNapolis. All of them are as tough as nails and big softies.” Karen rolled her eyes. “If Mama had more sisters or if Papa’s would cook real food instead of that fern bar froufrou they serve their ‘patrons’ in the Village and SoHo, we would have even more branches.”

“I’ve never even seen Dick’s hatband.”

“Before tonight, Rina, you’ve never seen a dick.”

Irina lowered her eyes, catching a glimpse at her Eve-wet nipples and blushed again. “I suppose I should share my little German tweaks with your Mama.”

“Whatever you do, don’t call them German! It’s not a racist thing. It’s the authenticity angle. It is either Italian or it is not. She hates to intermingle cuisines. She actually likes the sausages and the old beer purity laws, says it keeps the brews good and honest. Apple beer gets her all exercised. I remember one night after she had a glass or two of Rhineland’s finest, some fool offered her a taste of something brewed with cherries. My sweet Mama went all Oktoberfest on his ass. It took Papa and two aunts to hold her back. Funniest thing ever!”

“So I don’t share?”

“Share, but call it a family tradition. The sauce is excellent. The only downside is that Mama will adopt you and I can’t marry my sister.” Karen laughed again. “Don’t sign anything at the restaurant and we’ll be safe.”

“Poor Sergio will never get those grandchildren!” Amy grinned at Karen’s surprised face. “We had our guys on the communication system during the unpleasantness today. He all but begged Sir to fuck him a grandkid in you. Was even going to pay for a suite and bubbly at the Plaza, so you could relive old times. If that didn’t work, he wanted Sir to take a picture of you showing your tits to the elevator guy for your new post at MyNextDate.com.”

“I’ll let him use the best one Mark took in the doorway with Amsterdam Avenue in the background. My tits look firm and perky.”

“Full frontal, if I remember, your nipples were hard as diamonds, too.” I suggested. “Way back when and now. We’ll tell him the champagne didn’t work and the elevator guy was a woman with mange.”

“Mama will be so proud of her little girl. Way back when? It wasn’t exactly in the Dark Ages.”

“Good thing you avoided her. Mange is contagious.” Leering, “OK, they weren’t dark. The ‘Stone Age’? How about ‘The Great Awakening’?”

“I’m going with “The Rise and Fall of the Roman Empire Neckline’. When it fell, it really went down.” She leered back. “Like I said, Mama will be proud.”

Conversation continued with less controversy for the next hour. They talked about how each got to where they were, including Irina and Karen, sharing some history, good and bad. Much talk went on about the clothes Bright Star made for my girls, school, the Academy and CalTech, shopping, a little about the house in Staten Island, weird parents and the war in the streets today.

Anne, Beth and Carol were enthusiastic about living at the Baker-Allyn Research And Resource Agency, all the stuff they could do for small businesses, artists and galleries, but mostly about the super-cool BatCave entrance and hidden basement full of spies, commandoes and enforcers.

Amy and Ellie were excited about the ArtFinder App. When they found a chance, both scoured the newspapers and online catalogues for contemporary galleries and artists. Their side was nearly done. Data entry was going to be a bear, but doable. From their data and stylistic information, I could automate the cross-references, create categories. If life would slow down just a little, we could field test in six months and go live in nine. The owners get to fill in the blanks.

All they had to do was supply the details, give a description and target demographic, the engine will do the rest and update itself.

I was very happy to note the girls were not sucking down the vino. Very few had more than one glass, and those that did, sipped slowly. They made little piggies out of themselves, but Sergio had gone bonkers (or Julietta!) and sent enough for hundreds.

Leftovers abounded. The salad we could have for lunch, the rest would make another huge meal. The Chianti would last as long as it did. I asked them to deal with the mounds of food whenever they finished eating.

“I have a few ends to tie down before the night is over, my lovelies The girls in the shop plan to work up samples of the dresses and halter top/skirt combo, in opaque, semi- and totally transparent pastel colored-air fabrics. Fabric so lightweight and thin, you wouldn’t know it was there if you didn’t look and maybe not even then. ‘Close your eyes and feel naked’ light. They want to call it ‘Zephyr Star Airwear’. I want to add both styles of swimwear and the crop top/shorts combo. The shorts could have a 1940s tap pants, flared leg-opening variety, too.”

All thought it was a cool idea. “But you made this stuff up. Will they get the credit?”

“No. I dreamed it up. They fine-tuned it. If it sells, we’ll split the net profits, but the division hasn’t been negotiated yet. While I’m downstairs, I want Eve, Jane and Jean to take the lead on discussions about adding designs, both conservative and over-the-edge risqué, we could sell here and in more cosmopolitan places. South Beach, the Riviera, Croatia, Costa del Sol, locations with very liberal rules.”

“What about the leotards and uniforms?” Jane asked. “They are quite nice.”

“We don’t want to be Danskins®, Lands End®, LL Bean® or Playtex®. Too much big name competition, not to mention production capacity overseas. We’re going ‘Made in NYC, USA’ all the way, high value and style, lower volume to keep demand and price up. We could do uniform exclusives for Bingham-Hampton and organizations similar. It will give the brand name cachet. See, you’re thinking of other markets, Jane. Keep it up.”

Now, they were playing close attention.

“Think about marketing. How do you sell a crop top, guaranteed to fly up at the slightest motion, to a girl your age? Make it popular and acceptable by calling it acceptable and popular? Dare girls to wear it to prove they’re one of the cool trendy kids? We’re talking total underboob exposure and maybe some areola color, too, all the time. Complete exposure some of the time. Pretend not to notice? Make casual exposure a sign of worldly sophistication?”

“The cheerleader captain saying, ‘So, you can see my tits at the mall. Big deal. I’m over it. Noticing is so yesterday. You already see my tight panties at the football games. Not much difference, really. Grow up.’ I can hear the conversations now. It will make the marginal kids want to be like the in crowd.” Jean remembered. “High school peer pressure will sell the clothes for us. Cheerleaders will eat dirt and bugs before they admit embarrassment. Copykittens will follow the leader.”

I painted a portrait. “Picture a normally timid girl, wearing a crop top and skirt set for the first time, eager, almost desperate to fit in with the ‘in crowd’, finding both tits totally exposed. The top will not fall back into place exposing only her areolas. That was as far as she could force herself to go, her embarrassment raging hot at that much exposure, in order to wear the popular styles the cool kids wore. Kicking herself at not checking the mirror in her rush to get to the cool party in the park, she is at an emotionally terrifying social crossroads. It’s now more embarrassing to be caught covering up, admitting to her peers that she is panic-stricken at people seeing her new-grown titties, more embarrassed and humiliated even, than to feign ignorance of the exposure. If nothing else, she’s successfully allowed herself to be trapped accidentally into keeping her hard nippled boobs on casual display. If the frantic little teenager doesn’t acknowledge her bare tits, she can pretend it’s not happening. Better yet, she can deceive herself into believing it’s not important.”

I chuckled and continued, watching the sympathetic responses around the room. “The self-conscious, mortified girl has to continue her voluntary nakedness in front of the entire sophomore class, including the ‘in crowd’, to preserve her internal illusion of modesty. Now, she hopes with all her racing heart, her staring classmates will concentrate their attention on her achingly erect pink nipples so they won’t notice her weeping pussy dripping juice down her legs.”

“The tension in the air so thick you can cut it with her nipples. Exposing your tits all day to preserve your modesty.” Carol commented with a wry smile, “The strangest concept ever to be absolutely true. Also, the hottest image of the day.”

“Parents need convincing.” Leah said. “Those that openly notice, anyway. But whining, moody, manipulative girl kids are always in front of the curve, dragging parents and the rest of the world along. The more forbidden it is, the more necessary it becomes. If it exposes more than expected, too much for her comfort, she will wear it out of spite to avoid admitting the mistake. Once worn in public, she can’t go back, only forward. The ‘mistake’ turns to ‘good choice’ because of the hot reaction she gets. It will be worn often to relive the thrill. Aim some advertising at Hollywood, too. Scandal sells.”

“We have the dresses and skirts and halter-tops to market also. We’ll have the three types of fabric, opaque, transparent and in between to choose from. How much difference will that make to shy, daring and very bold girls? Date night, prom, formal, nightclubbing, sorority bash?” I added, “Moms will probably like the dresses or halter-top/skirt sets in the opaque or translucent fabrics. Dad will take one look at Mom and get with the program. The daughters will expose more and more simply to raise the shock barrier.”

“It might make the crop tops more acceptable as the bolder, more youthful version.” Eve guessed. “Advertise the more ‘modest’, but sell all three color saturations. Maybe add tube tops with elastic at the top and bottom as the saggy-tits parental starter kit?”

I went to the office, leaving the naked girls brainstorming and decided to write about ways to profit by:

1 - Challenging otherwise decorous girls to show the world their enchanting decorations, avoiding the social humiliation of not chancing playful exposure in public and circumventing accusations of fashion cowardice, despite the constant embarrassment of being near naked on purpose, to show the appreciative public how up-to-the-minute trendy they are.

2 - Giving the shy, reserved girls permission to use self-imposed peer pressure as a pretext to expose their bodies as they reveal their secret exhibitionism and the novel exhilaration being subtly exposed in public brings, as they claim to remain modest victims of disquieting and unrelenting fashion advances. If a girl felt it inappropriate for their particular circumstance or did not feel the excitement, they could remain in the background, a part of the crowd. Not a good choice at all to the average teen girl seeking inclusion.

3 - Becoming web-based fashion experts, convincing the stylish, accidentally or carelessly topless girls and casually nearly naked popular girls to encourage, by example, not words, the more demure teens to be partially or completely naked in public in order to be very cool. Make it clear, no girls should bullied into choosing the new fashions; nor should girls be forced to stay in the old social mold. It is all about having free choices. Suggest strongly that Airwear is not just the best fashion choice, but the only fashion choice, for every girl with an ounce of rebellious ambition.

4 - Convincing the Moms to put Zephyr Star Airwear apparel on the back-to-school shopping lists as the sole ‘must have’ items, keeping their precious jewels in the best risqué cliques, promoting those who aren’t. Having the most visible nipples and meekly exposed pussies become positive indicators of elite social status. Making proud Moms aware that being Homecoming Queen looks great on a college application, merely hoping the sash isn’t so wide it blocks the view. That having little Princess’ royal titties highlighted tastefully in the annual for all posterity to emulate will be a cherished memory of the glory days of youth.

5 - Emphasizing the elegant styles and different colors available to make their discrete charms inconspicuously available to an admiring public. Making parents happy to see nothing but Zephyr Star Airwear in little Buttercup’s dresser and closet, virtually guaranteeing a bright future.

6 - Promoting a tacit, yet spirited, undercurrent of competition testing the limits girls will push in order to surpass the exposure of their peers. Persuading the powers-that-be that it is nothing more than an innocent sport among friendly rivals, a harmless contest in a community shamefully under funding girls’ activities, giving little more than token lip service to girls’ fitness requirements.

7 - Allowing Dads to divert significant amounts of money into more productive purposes, such as golf, age appropriate marital companionship and poker soirees by investing in neither costly underthings, nor overpriced Seventh Avenue attire every three months, for daughters who have no use for, and will gladly forego, unwanted expensive and frilly sightline obstructions. He will take comfort in knowing his dearest Cupcake’s cupcakes will never suffer the restrictions of underwire bras nor will she experience the indignity of visible panty lines as he writes a check for the new man-cave entertainment center.

The fashion of casual nakedness by accident would certainly require top physical fitness and more revealing clothing. Maybe we could get the First Lady involved in PSAs?

To think I started it all because I like naked teenagers running around the house, available to fuck anytime I feel like sticking my dick in a hot, willing cunt, tight ass or down a teenaged throat.

Amused at the irony of it all, I texted Chin and obliquely warned of rumors and hints of second tier Yakuza dealings with Brooklyn Russians, border town cartels and San Francisco Triad members. There was no such activity detected among Mr. Romero’s associates. I apologized for not being able to name names yet, but the transactions were along standard banking paths and would be revealed by internal audits. I told him I would not get further involved in his business other than to expose a potential threat. I trusted he would solve the problem appropriately. His methods were not my concern. But he would be a wise warrior if he watched his cohorts as closely as he did his competitors. Money talks, as did some of the second tier lieutenants in the Triad and Yakuza.

(I had snatched from under his nose the most exotic looking girl, the tightest pussy, I ever had wrapped around my cock. And now I owned her, body and soul. Not to mention her ass, mouth and cunt, so I won’t. Mr. Chin Wang was the jealous type.)

Rose received a note of thanks along with approval of the marketing of my designs. “My young team of fashion and style advisers is working on more designs and advertising campaigns. They are boldly creative, but they are the target demographic, an irresistible force of nature.”