A Short Story

Verin watched a group of young soldiers grapple behind the mess tent. He split his time between checking on Fynta and offering pointers when one of the guys showed bad form. So far, comms were still offline to the group that had entered the temple, but Verin didn’t worry. Fynta was impossible to kill, and he had little stake in the others. Granted, he rather liked the Togruta. She’d fought well on Tython.

“Those folks in the camp are getting used to being treated like humans. When they go back to the squatters’ camps they’ll be hard to handle.”

“Miners are diversified, babe. Got a few garages, tattoo parlor, liquor store, gym, even own the grocery store in town.” I leave out the guns, drugs and strip club which happens to be our biggest money makers. She did say legitimate enterprises after all.

While the rest of the team had fallen asleep, I still laid awake lost in thought. We have already been on this plane for nineteen hours and thirty minutes. Which means we only have 20 minutes left on this horrible flight. I started to consider if we should've chosen a different airline, but then I realized I only dislike the 20 hours on this plane. I probably would've enjoyed this plane more if it wasn’t 20 hours. I don’t really know why, because I do enjoy the peacefulness I find on all planes.

“Hey, not bad,” Verin remarked as they entered the hangar where the Thunderclap sat. “That thing as roomy as it looks?” The bounty hunter radiated energy on a level that rivaled Fynta. Jorgan sympathized with the man. He clearly worried about his wife, but forced a cheerful facade for reasons Jorgan would never understand. Cormac did the same when he was nervous, whereas Fynta fought back with snark, and Dorne with research. Aric wondered if he had a coping mechanism, then remembered his reputation for being a hardass.

‘’Woohoo!’’ Exclaimed Ralph, coming out of Cisco’s breach and back at the lab, as the engineer released his grip on him.

Brett was riding the crest of his orgasm, every pump of his cock inside Elena's tight pussy elicitng a louder groan and moan of pleasure, attempting to hold off as long as he could. His cock swelling inside her, and balls aching as he slammed into her time and time again, the need was almost painful, and normally he'd just allow himself to release, but then normally he'd have already ensured the women he was with had already orasmed at least once and hopefully more times before he'd even fucked her. It was a matter of ego, and there was an eroticism about looking into a woman's eyes as she writhed and screamed and came for him that the man could never get enough of. Watching a woman orgasm was fucking hot.

Phenix stood in front of the closed door, his heart pounding and his fist ready to do the same to the heavy, whitewashed, wood panel. Damn the Archaeans to hell! Why wouldn’t they let him wrap up this ludicrous contract in the way he usually did, a simple tag-and-bag transaction. Boom! Pay up.

She'd been in his apartment a matter of minutes, and Elena was already naked and about to drop to her knees to blow him. Brett felt a touch guilty as his erection throbbed in his pants. Not accustomed to paying for sex, even though there was a purpose behind it on this occasion, it didn't sit well. Nor did the knowledge that the girls dates usually accompanied them to a gala event that under other circumstances they'd never access to, or at least wined and dined them first. Sex was, of course, expected, but only as dessert rather than the entree itself. Brett was also a man who liked to take his time and ensure the women enjoyed the experience as much as he did.

Freeing myself from his embrace, I asked, "What if I say I don’t want to work for you?" He laughed and muttered, "Then you don’t. I remember how often you asked me to release you from your contract. I thought I should honor your wishes. C’mon. Let eat."

“Great,” I groaned; as I realized that I could have to fight throw even more of those things. “We might have a bit of a problem with that you guys, first off do you have any more weapons?”

Lincoln found a convenient wall to lean against for a few moments. He had to plan his next move. This was a typical process for a trained agent. He focussed on the main objectives he was sent there for in the first place. Find where this group is operating from. Find who runs it and where they were getting their weapon supplies from. Also how they were being funded. Once done, the AST and the other agencies can step in and eliminate them all. If his spy drone works and the local intel is correct, the first two objectives are almost met. So Lincoln’s current objective was to make sure his drone was working. Once that was confirmed, then get to the Government Headquarters where he first was met and contact the AST. The main problem with that

slightly open, holding their cups of tea with both hands, like children mirroring one another.

Long, slender fingers pushed a delicate pair of reading glasses further up the bridge of the doctor's nose as the eyes behind the lenses scanned over the papers held in his other hand. It was an important day for those that worked at Maternity Enterprises, but unfortunately that also meant that it was a busier day than normal. Nurses and orderlies were going from the labs to the offices to the exam rooms to get everything prepared for the upcoming appointments. The childcare staff were trying to keep their charges in line while simultaneously trying to gussy them up for the party later that evening. A number of other staff members were actively setting up for said party, and the doctors, himself included, were busy preparing for the

Morrison recovered slowly. His heavily impaired speech, still wheelchair bound, so, any move to reignite his control over his son and wife was energy wasted. Still, he kept trying to make life miserable for both of them. He somehow demanded and got the hospital to send him home.