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"Yeah, that's good," he agreed.There had been several murders in Portland, Maine that had the earmarks of a serial killer specializing in women – Frank's favorite type of person to rescue. The city was close enough so they wouldn't have to spend much travel time, and, in addition, Portland had great restaurants and an exciting nightlife.Frank made reservations at the Portland Hyatt-Ramada for two weeks with the option of extending the time indefinitely."As soon as the girls get back," Frank said, having done everything he was supposed to do, "we're good to go."According to his grandson, Jake Hedron at Tomlin, the girls should be back in two more days. He settled down for a short nap, knowing that Mac would soon wake him to play strategy games on the remote console when he got bored with whatever he was doing now.As far as the girls were concerned, they had no idea if they would ever see daylight, again. They were all unconscious and chained up in an underground dungeon.Tabatha woke. After a few minutes, I had adjusted to the setting and began to stroke myself but only through my jeans. I heard guys cumming across the theater and I heard the regular buzz of the door as other people entered the theater. Then I was shocked as someone touched my shoulder and ask if they could sit down. As I turned to face them I realized it was a female. Long dark brown hair, not a beauty queen but I had seen lots worse. I mumbled yes and she crossed in front of me and sat beside me. The usual talk – do you come here often, not many ladies here, etc. She told me that she comes once a month and that she loves porn."Why did you sit here?"She replied it was the only almost empty row. I look around and she was right, and everyone was staring at her.What should I do? Stay here? Talk to her? Just watch the movie? And she gave me the answer as she leaned over and asked me to pinch her nipples. She had on a white button-down blouse and a bra, a tan skirt, and high heels. I reached over and.
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Many had been the time Gwendolyn and Petr had stood along the shores of the Lake of Dreams before that magical day, gazing out over the deep waters, its name apt as they stared in silence, alone in their thoughts but taking comfort in each other's presence.Though the lake was idyllic, not a soul had ever intruded upon their solitude, for the lake was whispered by the elders to be a dangerous place, dark and mysterious. There, the villagers trod but rarely, never staying to tarry beside the calm waters but passing it as quickly as they might. Many had been the stories Gwen's grandfather had wove about the Lake of Dreams, stories which she had dismissed (as she had most of the tales she loved) as the fantastic imaginings of an old man's mind, though in this instance, the same stories were told by others in the village as well. It was said that unwary travelers to the lake--particularly those who came upon its shores at night--would hear the sirens calling them, entrancing them to enter.

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