Chapter 128

~~Beatrice~~

Damien was a sexy fucker. Yeah, she knew he was built all lean and lithe, and he had the face and hair of a young girl’s emo vampire crush. But seeing him give into his hunger — caused by Fiona’s blood she figured — was fucking hypnotizing. The dude bounced his exhausted girlfriend on his dick until her giant tits were almost hitting her in the face, and she was mewling and whimpering, until Triss and Jen were both squirming as they watched.

Fiona collapsed on Damien’s chest, and he hugged her tight as they came. Which earned a longing sigh from Jen.

“What’s it like?” Jen said.

Damien, clutching his girlfriend as he slowly came down from his pleasure high, looked at Jen, something between pleasure and annoyance on his face. Probably the sorta face Triss often had, when Jen teased her during sex with Julias. It was a cute face, she had to admit. And Damien was kinda asking for some teasing, being caught mid-fuck in a nightclub.

“What’s what like?”

“Being the man, and draining a woman as you fuck her. Triss and I can’t really speak to the experience. I mean, I’ve fucked plenty of kine while draining them, but it’s not the same.”

Damien rolled his eyes, and held Fiona close to him, as if to protect her from them, and hide her body from their eyes. Heh, didn’t matter now, not after seeing the curvy short stack bouncing on that dick like her life depended on it.

“It’s ... satisfying,” he said.

Triss laughed. “Satisfying? That’s it? Looked like you were enjoying the best thing in the world, dude. Maybe the better question is, what does it feel like to be inside a girl when she’s getting Kissed?”

Damien glared at her, but she saw more of that half pleased look in his eyes. “It’s wonderful, ok?”

Jen rolled her eyes, mirroring and mocking Damien. “No details? No talk of ... clenching, boiling heat, dripping juices, muscle spasms? Please, regale me.”

“No.”

“Ugh, you are such a bore.”

Triss shook her head. “He was a bore. Now, he’s sitting naked in a booth with his naked girlfriend, in public, fucking her and Kissing her, and...” She leaned back and underneath the booth a bit to double check something. Confirmed. “And, giving his naughty girl a spanking.”

Jen moaned, and sighed. “If you were Othello, you’d happily share every dirty detail with us.”

“I’m not Othello.” The Mekhet raised a hand, and stroked Fiona’s back. She mewled into his neck, coming down from her orgasm high, and delighting in his touch like a lovesick puppy. Hard to tell if that meant anything, considering Fiona’s personality, but maybe it did.

“True,” Jen said, “but now you’re part of the ... more active members of Dolareido’s nightlife, and its Kindred. I give it another year, then you’ll be inviting others for an audience to your lovemaking.”

“He’s not a warlock, Jen.”

“He doesn’t need to be a member of the Circle to enjoy putting on a spectacle.” She grinned at the man, and licked her lips enticingly. “And it was a spectacle. You’re a gorgeous man, Damien. Young girls everywhere would swoon over you, if your face ever found its way into media.”

Fiona nodded, though she kept her face hidden in his neck. It was pretty damn cute, especially cause her frizzy red hair rubbed into his chin.

“If you two insist on pestering me, can I ask a question?”

“Shoot,” Triss said.

“Did you two run into Jack and the others? They left not long ago.”

Jennifer grinned. “We did. Jack didn’t look happy to see his mother with Jacob.”

“Understandable.”

Triss frowned. “How’s that? Jacob is—”

“It’s not about Jacob. It’s about Jack.” The man sighed, leaned back in his seat, and stroked Fiona’s back as she hugged him. Silly girl would fall asleep if he gave her the chance, even with the pulsing bass-heavy music in their ears. “You know Jack suspects him of ... everything, I suppose. And since you’re here, making my life Hell, I should also ask: does he treat Samantha well?”

Oh, that. Laughing, Triss and Jen shared glances before grinning at the man.

“She’s here with him, isn’t she?” Triss said.

Jennifer nodded. “Indeed. Samantha has been enjoying her time with the Circle. And, she’s been enjoying her time with Jacob immensely. Intensely. Sort of like how Fiona seems to be enjoying yours.” Grinning, she reached out and touched Fiona’s hair, only for Damien to swat her hand away.

Damien eyed Jen, but when he looked at Beatrice, it was different. The look said it all. He expected Triss to keep an eye on Samantha, to protect her, to do the right thing.

She smiled at him, pat the naked man on his shoulder, nodded, and got out of the booth. “Come on Jen.”

Jennifer gave Damien her sexy look, her ‘if you and Fiona joined me I’d make Heaven look like a two-star hotel’ look. But she was just playing, teasing and whatnot, the damn slut, and she slid out of the booth to join Triss. Of course, the two of them took a moment to look back at the pretty boy and the naked short stack still sitting on his dick, and grinned.

They moved on, and slid into the booth Jacob had found.

“They’re a cute couple,” Triss said as she and Jen got comfortable, taking the other side of Samantha and Jacob, who had Othello, Madison, and Aaron on the other.

“Yeah,” Samantha said, “I think so.”

“Oh? Do you know about Damien’s past?” Jennifer asked.

“Only a little. My sire told me about Lucas, and what Damien did, attacking the tower and all that.” She nodded to herself as she thought about something. “I’ve seen Fiona a few times, and she seems full of life. Damien seems like the sort of man who needs that, like ... like his life has been taken from him, right?”

“You don’t think he’s a bit mature for her?” Othello said. “And not about the age difference. Age difference doesn’t really affect Kindred, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.” He gestured to the far, far older man beside Samantha. “But, Damien’s a pretty somber guy.”

Samantha shook her head. “Sometimes opposites attract. Sometimes, the best relationships are when two people fill in the gaps for each other.”

That was a nice sentiment, but Beatrice wasn’t buying it. “Eh, maybe. People need to have some kind of foundation to connect on. I have no idea how you and the boss are connecting, but I’m sure you have something.” That was a lie. She had a clue. The two were adults; like, embraced at an adult age, and that affected how their brains worked. And they’d both lost, a lot.

When the two were done fucking like animals, it was easy to imagine the two of them talking about their lives, and finding comfort in each other. Samantha would probably talk first, because her wounds were relatively new, and she was softer than Jacob. And once the woman’s sweet heart penetrated Jacob’s many, many, many masks, he might confide in her a grain of truth about him.

Jacob grinned subtly, hooked his arm around Samantha, and gently hugged her against him for a second. But he said nothing. He just smiled, and set a kiss on Samantha’s ear.

There was something there, in his expression. So fucking damn hard to read without eyes, but something in his grin caught Triss’s eye, and she raised a brow for a moment as she looked at the man. Maybe Damien wasn’t too far off the mark, asking her to look after Samantha.

Beatrice and Jen took to the streets in Devil’s Corner. Triss made sure to wrap herself in the Discipline Face in the Crowd, so passing eyes glanced over her. Jen on the other hand, walked the street like she was looking for a client for the night. Still wearing her nightclub dress, she definitely looked the part. A few times, someone stopped their car and asked her how much. She politely declined.

“Getting harder to find people,” Jen whispered to her.

“Yeah.” Triss slid her jaw to the side, causing some of her crocodile teeth to click together. “Makes things difficult.”

“If the Prince finds out—”

“I’m a lot more worried about that asshole Daniel. The sheriff is a cold fucker.” She shrugged, and nodded toward an alley. “There?”

“We did that spot two weeks ago.”

“Shit, you’re right.” She sighed heavy, but shrugged it off. No point in getting her hopes down yet. “And besides, I’m sure the Prince and the sheriff know something is up. As long as we’re careful, they won’t mind.”

“And if they told us we had to stop?”

Triss stopped and looked at her friend. Jen met her gaze, eyebrows furrowed. Sadness, mixed with determination maybe? At this point, Jen would follow Triss into whatever hell found them, but Triss knew Jen would have preferred she stop this insanity. And she knew Triss wasn’t going to.

“Then I ask Black Blood for help dealing with them.”

“You know he might actually do something, and it probably wouldn’t be good.”

“Maybe. He’s got some weird rules he has to follow. Can’t fuck with the city directly, I guess.”

Jen rubbed her bare arms, pretending to be a weak fawn any hunting predator would love to rob, or rape. Serial killers weren’t exactly common, but if Triss and Jen got lucky, they might find a kine royally fucked up like that. But so far, just rapists and muggers, kine that probably didn’t exactly merit what Triss was going to do to them, but she couldn’t afford to be picky.

“Either way,” Triss continued, “don’t worry about them. People go missing from Dolareido all the time, the fuckers we don’t care about.”

“We don’t, but someone else might.”

That was always a possibility. Kine were dumb, but not so dumb that you could lower your guard; that’s how hunters were made. If Kindred made a mistake, they could have a hundred, or even a thousand kine suddenly keeping an eye out for them, and who the fuck knew what might happen after that. Jacob, and even Garry warned her that kine were dangerous because they had this nasty habit of multiplying, and not in the procreative sense. More like, if you pissed off one kine, you could suddenly find yourself looking at the angry end of a mob.

So, vampires did things in shadows and darkness and shit, and now was no exception. Classic vampire shit, a combination of displays of power, but also trying to be secretive, so a thousand angry people with torches didn’t show up at their door.

But in Dolareido, it wasn’t a big concern anyhow. The Invictus and the Prince controlled the city, and that included the media. If some random human managed to get some footage of Beatrice abducting someone, and posted it to media, it would probably mysteriously disappear from the internet, while the person who posted it would find a Ventrue at their door, ready to do some memory wiping.

Of course, that was just the concern over whether the Masquerade would be shattered. It wouldn’t change that she’d be caught violating it, and someone would come have a strong chat with her. If she violated it too many times, Jacob himself would rip her damn head right off her shoulders, or the sheriff would tie her up and leave her for sunrise as a warning to everyone else. Probably not a fun way to die.

Jen and Triss weren’t flying blind in their hunt. Aaron knew a lot more about Devil’s Corner than Triss figured, and when she’d talked about sacrifices, he’d pointed her in some directions, like this one. He knew she was up to some dark shit, but after what happened, he and Othello were perfectly willing to help her without asking questions

Jen and Triss drifted into another part of town, and ended up behind some whore house. Say one thing for Dolareido, it was gender progressive, criminals included. Women were treated the same as men, and women did nasty, horrible shit, just as much as the men. Didn’t matter if you had tits or a dick, anyone could be a giant fuckwad, and if you knew where to look, you could find them.

So when they found a woman with a gun, holding up a couple hookers at gunpoint, Triss and Jen smiled at each other.

Back in the cave with Elen, Triss and Jen sat their new sacrifice down in front of the bowl. A weak-willed mugger was an easy target for Dominate, and Jen had no trouble turning her into a mindless sheep; for a little while, anyway. If it’d been Jack, he could have permanently fucked up her mind, and a few other minds besides, at the same time. But Jack’s role with the Circle was done. She didn’t want him even more buried in the shit she was getting into, and the kid had a big enough problem to deal with already.

First step: summon Black Blood, and not with the sacrifice. Instead, she and Jen lit some candles, ensured the symbols drawn on the walls and floor were still good, and began the ritual. Beatrice sent vitae through her, and tapped into the part of her, the hidden muscle that could reach across the air and into the ether. And as the energy of life coursed out through her undead limbs, she held them up, and spoke:

“Black Blood. I summon you.”

Black Blood came, in his usual style. First, the almost inaudible wails and cries of the dying, as if painful death was something that’d been cut into the spirit until he was literally scarred with the noise. Second, the presence of death, the odd, cold chill it sent through the spine. Third, the black ooze, or blood or whatever it was, thick and gross. It flowed from the cracks in the walls, the eyes of the carved skulls underneath the sacrifice bowl, and from holes in the ceiling and earth.

Black Blood surrounded them, his presence everywhere, and no matter how many times he and Triss had a talk, the insane overwhelming pressure of his aura was undeniable. It was fucking scary.

“Fresh blood tonight?” the deep, almost soothing, mostly scary voice said in a southern drawl.

“Yeah.” Triss grabbed the sacrifice, and pushed her toward Elen. They didn’t know her name; made it easier. “Can we try and keep the mess to a minimum this time?”

The evil god of death and doom chuckled, and more of the black ooze seeped up into the bowl Elen hung over.

“Sure sweetheart. I’ll try.”

“Dears,” Elen said, voice cracked, withered and dry. “Do an old woman a favor and get her a glass of water, would you?”

Jen winced, but didn’t move. Of the three people—er, entities in the room, excluding Elen, Jen felt the most empathy for the old woman, but even she wasn’t willing to entertain the delusional hag her strange requests. She didn’t need water. Hell, the woman was so fucked in the head she never registered Black Blood’s presence. The ooze flowed up off the floor, and pooled into the bowl under Elen’s feet. Anyone else would have panicked to all fuck, screaming and kicking. Not Elen. She just hung there, like everyone was a-ok. Creepy, and weird.

More weird, was how it looked when Black Blood, or a piece of him or whatever, began to climb up the old woman’s leg. Elen looked down at the creeping veins of black that inched up her loose skirt, and didn’t frown or struggle or anything. She just looked at it, like noticing a rock on the road, before looking to the sacrifice standing in front of her.

“Are we carving up another one tonight, dears?” she said.

Triss forced down the wince. “Yes, we are.”

Even as Black Blood crawled up her neck, and the black ooze began to press into her right ear and left nostril, Elen didn’t react. If anything, she smiled, a tiny smile, like an old woman going through her typical daily routine she was comfortable with.

“Without my tools and my book, there’s only so much I can do, dear.” A bit of black slipped in between her lips. She didn’t respond to it. Was she even aware of it? She had to be. Much as Elen’s brain was permanently fucked, she had some awareness of her surroundings. A big hook skewering her wrists and holding her up? No big deal. But an alien death god thing oozing up into her mouth, nostrils, and brain? Fucking hell.

“Your tools are out of our reach,” Jennifer said.

“Yeah. Locked up in the Prince’s tower.” Triss jumped up onto the edge of the bowl, unhooked the woman’s thin wrists from the meat hook, and helped her down. A small chair waited for her, and Triss sat her in it. Then, she grabbed the brainwashed sacrifice, and put her on her knees in front of the old woman.

The veins in Elen’s body swelled, like a dehydrated bodybuilder, and Triss shuddered as they bulged and squirmed. Black Blood was in her fucking veins.

“Still not sure how you’re doing that,” Triss said.

A resonating voice, bassy, alien, mixed with Elen’s voice, came from the old woman’s mouth. “This vessel is almost empty.” Southern accent gone, Black Blood now adopted Elen’s decrepit old woman accent. The creepy factor soared to eleven. “She provides little more trouble than possessing a corpse.”

“Don’t be rough, deary,” Elen said, once Black Blood was done. “I’m just skin and bones, you know.”

“Silence,” Black Blood said. Christ it was like watching Gollum argue with himself.

Shaking, trembling, Black Blood guided the old woman’s hands onto the face of their sacrifice, and began to touch her flesh. The sacrifice pulled back, but Jennifer came around, and met the woman’s eyes hard. Another fresh dose of brainwashing from the skilled Ventrue was enough to get the sacrifice to hold still again.

The plan was simple. Elen refused to help them, but after some experimentation, Triss and Black Blood learned the woman’s mind was so empty, that Black Blood could possess her. Normally possession was a different process that took time, according to the spirit, and normally required the person to resonate with the spirit trying to possess them; again, according to Black Blood. A fire spirit could possess someone with arsonist tendencies, given time. But since Elen was half dead and unable to die, Black Blood could sort of half possess her. And half force her to do things.

So Black Blood learned how to use Elen and her ability to manipulate flesh. An ancient creature learning to use a tool, a tiny, fragile, weak tool, meant only for subtle, precise work. One mistake and Black Blood might tear the woman apart from the inside out.

Elen frowned at the sacrifice, and gently slid fingers up and down her face. As she did, Jen pulled out a scalpel, and handed it to the woman. Triss pulled out her smart phone, brought up a picture of Julias he’d posed for, and pointed it at Black Blood. It took every bit of effort Triss had to not look at the picture this time, but she managed. No need for those painful memories, not now.

Elen got to cutting, guided by Black Blood, but Triss could tell it was Elen doing the more delicate stuff. Lifting her arms and pushing her hands forward? Black Blood. The tiny cuts, the quiet humming, the weird smile? Elen. Like a granny given a knitting needle and wool, she couldn’t help but get to work when the tools were in her hands.

“Be a dear and get my book for me?” the old woman said.

Triss groaned. This woman, this damn woman, was so fucking senile, it hurt.

“I already told you Elen, a hundred times, I can’t. It’s locked up. The book, the knife, the other artifacts, all of them.”

Elen sighed and lowered one of her hands. The scalpel sliced into the sacrifice’s face, hard, deep, down across her cheek, and blood flowed. The sacrifice screamed, pain breaking through Jen’s Dominate. But before the scream could get too bad, Triss cracked the doomed woman upside the head, and picked her back up by her neck. Unconscious was still alive, and alive was all Elen needed.

“If you could get my book for me, and my knife, I’d do this for you, you know.” Sighing, Elen and Black Blood brought her cutting hand back up to the sacrifice’s face, and got digging. Her right hand sliced, and her left hand plied and plucked at the skin “It’s been a long time since I’ve had a fun project. Rebuilding sonny there”—she half nodded toward the phone—”sounds like a fun project for old Elen.”

Triss frowned down at the old woman, and looked at the face of the sacrifice. Unconscious, the woman they were cutting on couldn’t feel what they were doing to her, and if she woke up and saw, she’d kill herself the moment she got her hands on a sharp object. She wouldn’t be waking up. This was just an experiment, another lamb for the slaughter, or a better comparison, this was fucking Unit 731. She scrunched up her nose at the awful comparison, but it was partly true. Every asshole and douchebag Jen and Triss pulled off the streets and into this hole in the ground on the edge of Dolareido, were fodder to be fucked with as Black Blood and Elen worked to see if they could accomplish the first part of Beatrice’s plan.

The second part was going to be worse, but for now, she was focusing on the first part. Creating a body for her dead love.

“Is she lying?” Triss said.

“I don’t know, deary,” Black Blood said, and again Triss shivered. The fact his voice changed to match his host’s was god damn weird. “But this would be easier if I had her tools.”

The fact Black Blood could, on the fly, possess Elen, and actually use some of her magical flesh manipulating abilities, was damn fucking amazing considering he wasn’t supposed to be able to do much to anything that still had a soul. But still, Triss ground her teeth in frustration and almost started yelling. Every fucking barrier they ran into was infuriating. No matter how many times she told herself this whole attempt to resurrect Julias was bound to failure, no matter how many times she reminded herself of what the Crone told her, she couldn’t help but get her hopes up a little, which of course meant she got super fucking pissed the moment she ran into a problem.

“There are three elders in that tower, Black Blood, not to mention Jack. That’s four people that could kick my ass instantly.”

“Jack,” Black Blood said as he worked on the woman’s face, flesh sliding far more than it should have. Literally rearranging the woman’s face. “That boy, a lot has happened since I last saw him.”

“I suppose Jacob’s kept you up to date. And you kinda saved the day, when you gave Sándor an opening back there, to stop the ritual. You saw what Jack’s become.”

The old woman smiled, but continued to cut into the sacrifice’s face. “The curse inside him is ... interesting. It’s been ages since I’ve seen something like it.”

Black Blood had run into something like it before? That was useful information. She almost asked, but shut up before she could. Better to bring it up to Jack, without Black Blood knowing.

Triss rolled her eyes, doing her best to pass off how scary what he’d just said was. “Focus BB. You have no way to manipulate Jack into working for you, no leverage.”

Black Elen Blood chuckled, a weak and sad little sound, but he-she nodded as he-she continued his-her work. “Don’t I?”

“No. And if you fuck with Jack, consider our deal terminated.”

Again, the old woman chuckled, voice half mixed with the bassy vibration of the demon possessing her. “Alright dear.”

“As for the book and shit, I have no idea how to get them. No way in hell. I can’t sneak in there. Jacob couldn’t sneak in there, not with the fucking sheriff around. Plus, you know, dozens of thralls with guns and probably flamethrowers and shit.”

Jen made a thinking noise. “Breaking into the Elysium Tower is a lost cause. But, we do have another way in. Rather, another person.”

~~Jack~~

He grumbled and groaned, and Jessy laughed.

“Come on, your mom looked happy.”

“I don’t trust him.”

She shrugged, hooked an arm over his shoulders, and gestured to the city around them as they walked the street. “No one trusts anyone, dude.”

“You don’t trust me?”

“Ha, you know what I mean.” She rubbed his buzzed head before letting him go.

“I don’t trust Jacob, and as much as Antoinette trusts him, a little, I don’t think she has a good perspective on it.”

“You don’t? She’s gotta be pretty damn smart to be as old and successful as she is, ya know.”

He shook his head. “Ever had a friend you watched degrade into a ... a bad person, despite your efforts to help them? And you were convinced if you just gave ‘em a chance, they’d come through for you?”

That struck home, and she lowered her eyes as they walked. “Yeah, I have.”

“And did they pull through for you?”

“No, they didn’t. But the Prince is old, Jack. She’s gotta be smart enough, or at least wise enough, to not make that mistake.”

His turn to shake his head again. “You’d think, but Antoinette is ... a bit of a softy, honestly. Yeah sure, a lot of people in the city think she’s some kinda ice queen, and she can be when its time to get professional, but her friendship with that old fucker is ancient.” Daniel saw it. The sheriff had no delusions about Jacob, and would happily cut the man’s head off if he saw an opportunity and reason. Jack was happy for that, at least. “So yeah, the Prince thinks Jacob can be trusted, and I’d be an idiot to ignore that, cause you’re right, she is smart and wise. But at the same time, she’s not a robot. She and Jacob have a history.”

“Like she and Elaine do.”

“Y ... Yeah.” He winced and looked up at her. “What do you think of her?”

“Elaine? Smoking hot. Got that tall, busty model looking going for her.”

Jack groaned, earning a laugh from the Gangrel.

“No, I mean—”

“I know what you mean. Can she be trusted? Or at least, trusted more than any self-respecting vampire would trust someone in this kinda circumstance. Honestly? I don’t fucking know, man. I met her eyes, and she ... well, she kinda reminded me of Viktor.”

A chill ran up Jack’s spine. “Yeah. That secret has slipped out, and I guess now she doesn’t really mind people knowing she’s my great grandsire.”

“And Viktor was a fucking sociopath.”

“Maybe he wasn’t always? I have a hard time imagining Elaine willingly siring someone like the Viktor I met.”

“Or, maybe Elaine was different back then compared to now?”

He nodded at that. It was possible. Elaine told him as much, that she was a completely different person back then, ran through the woods with pet wolves at her side and stuff.

Speaking of pets. He looked up, and smiled as he noticed Mulder and Scully perched on a powerline. They’d come down for some cuddles and snacks later, but for now, it’d be damn weird to walk around all these people with a couple crows perched on his shoulders. And he didn’t want them with him when he was underground in Isabella’s lair.

“Maybe,” he said, “maybe Viktor wasn’t always the asshole we knew. He sired Julias, and he had to know Julias was ... was—”

“Better than the fucking rest of us.” Jessy sighed, shook her head, and slipped an arm over his shoulders again. Half hug, while walking. Not comfortable, but a glance up told him he should let her do it. “Christ, still can’t believe he’s gone sometimes.”

“Me neither. But, you knew him a lot longer than I did.”

“I did yeah. I never got as close to him as you did, Jack, but yeah, knew him most of my second life. I—” She stopped hugging him, made an awkward cough, and fixed the shoulders of her suit. “No sissy shit. We’re supposed to be enforcers here, and get Isabella back in line. Let’s go.” She didn’t hesitate a moment last night to show everyone her nipples, and get pretty damn ballsy with an elder vampire, but to let it show that she was genuinely sad over Julias’s death? That was a line she couldn’t cross, not yet at least.

That was fine. Eric had that covered, Jack was sure. They were a great couple, and he was happy they got together, and not Fiona. Eric was good for Jessy, and honestly, Fiona was good for Damien.

The two walked the street in silence for a while, on a slow path to the Lamanar Theatre. Michael and Jack had talked after his few weeks of meditation practice with Elaine, and concluded that if he felt the curse was under control, the man should get back to work. Work, in this case, meant having a talk with Isabella Leauvion and Hella Vendram. The two lovers were neglecting their duties — they were supposed to be a thorn in the Carthians’ sides — and Michael wanted to remind them that just because the hunters were defeated, they didn’t get to sit around doing nothing.

So Jessy and Jack, two Right Hands, were going to pay an unannounced visit, and remind them. Jack was down with the idea. Supposedly the hunters that remained in the city were still in Isabella’s care, and Jack wanted to see just how caring that care was.

“So, last night,” Jessy said. “Wow.” Of course, with time to recover from talk of Julias, Jessy’s more normal personality reemerged. Give it to the Gangrel, she bounced back fast.

“Yeah, wow.”

“Like what you saw?” She gestured to herself. At the moment the both of them were in suits, full on secret agent suits that practically screamed hidden pistol.

He rolled his eyes. “You’re hot Jessy, and you know it.”

She grinned. “Yeah, but it’s still great to hear.”

“What, Eric doesn’t tell you?”

“Oh he does, but you can never have too many compliments.” She grasped the air and put her hand in her pocket, as if saving the compliment for later consumption. “But, damn, lot of tits at that table. Elaine and Fiona have huuuge boobs. And of course, your freaky lover’s got tits the size of Georgia.”