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"I guess I just think... you're stunning," she said softly, letting her eyes smoke a little, ambiguously, to show the girl she wasn't intimidated.Angelique winked, instantly becoming more friendly. "You ain't so bad yourself, dear," she deadpanned. "In the gorgeous department, we're a pair."Laura giggled and relaxed a little. They went back to the party, stopping at the bar for drinks, and were soon both surrounded by men. Finally, Angelique whispered to her, "Either we each choose one, or we get out of here together, so they think we're dating." I'm with you," Laura smiled.They went back to Angelique's hotel room."Want a vodka?" she asked Laura. "I always carry a bottle, but I don't have anything else. Just for a nightcap. Helps me sleep."They sat in the small hotel room, Angelique on the bed, Laura in the chair, drinking from the bathroom glasses."Is your name really Angelique?" Laura asked.She shook her head. "Sandra Robinson. Angelique is my 'stage' name." She grimaced. "I pose. At long last, one of my all time fantasies was coming true, her hand running across my chest, down over my stomach, feeling her fingers reach there destination, wrapping around my long, hard cock.She stroked me softly, then harder as our kisses intensified, my hand gently pulling on her nipples, feeling her moan in to my mouth.I broke of our kiss, trailing my lips and tongue down her neck, across her chest, slowly taking each nipple in turn into my mouth, sucking and gently biting it.My lips travelled lower, across her flat stomach, her back arching as my kisses reached the top of her pussy, totally waxed apart from a small line of hair above her clit.I kissed around her pussy, not touching it, then to her inner thighs, breathing on to her clit, as she pushed her pussy towards me, yet still not actually touching it.Then i extended my tongue and for the first time, flicked it across her clit, to which she bucked wildly, moaning loud, as i then started to lick it harder, faster, sucking.
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..Dean wrenched himself back to reality. He spoke staccato phrases into the microphone, telling of this illusive attack on his mind. Every detail would be of value, revealing vital facts about this enemy. Facts that could, perhaps, be put together to make a larger pattern of strengths and weaknesses. It was already plain that the illusionists were not from this tiny barren world, with its single reddish sun. He let his mind drift, eager for more knowledge...Again the suns beat down, darkening his leathery skin from blue to purple. The whip, cherished symbol of his status as field-foreman, dangled idly from his wrist. The workers, knee-deep in squelchy brown mud, moved more slowly as his attention wandered. Darveel drank sparingly from his flask, the trace of drug in the water bracing his will. Once more the workers quickened their movements, their drowsing minds responsive to his commands. At the back of his own mind was a dull resentment. To drive such cattle as these! They were the.

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