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But that was enough to fan some flames, to keep the story alive for several days.> Quantico Can’t Cut It? > Evidence Being Manufactured? > Were the Meriwethers Railroaded? > Why Won’t Collins Speak? > Communist Connections in Tinseltown?Ash didn’t seem to sweat it. Not visibly anyway. And since no one had learned of my West Coast involvement, I wasn’t even remotely in the spotlight.Ash told me that in the old days, J. Edgar days, the FBI would have smashed SING, found enough dirt on RightWorld to close them down. I’m glad the feds don’t, or can’t, do that. But sometimes... It’s distressing to see Pilar, usually so determined, so fierce, so certain, sidelined with the flu. It’s a rough go. She looks so small, so frail. Her cinnamon skin is pale, her eyes glassy; she seems shrunken.No one is panicking. It’ll pass. But still.Walker has taken command of their bedroom. He’s attentive, concerned, caring, loving. Pilar seems barely aware of his ministrations, but maybe it’s sinking in. I stood there drinking in the sight before me. Looking over her shoulder, she gave me one of her wicked smiles. As she turned, I could not help but notice her nipples pushing against the fabric of her top."What are you staring at, John?" As she walked over to get two glasses of ice tea, she pulled her top up. The sight of her beautiful breasts had gotten my cock stirring. "The most beautiful gardener I have ever seen." Putting down the bag of topsoil, I walked over and took the glass from her.Taking a sip, an ice cube slipped into my mouth. Holding it between my teeth, I rubbed it over her lips. Joan sucked it into her mouth. As we kept sharing the cube, I took another from my glass. As I rubbed her nipples with it, she let out a gasp. "Oh, John, stop it, I need to get ready."Her writers' club was meeting this afternoon. Kissing me on the cheek, she went in the house.I cleaned the tools and put them in the shed. As I watered the new plants, I had another glass of ice tea. I could not.
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