Everyone met and shared gossip here, so a gathering of Benson, Maude, Jeff, and me, with a man in a suit, was going to fire the gossip mongers up. I'd bet it was on the radio right after or even before we finished lunch.Benson pulled in as we were getting ready to go up the steps into the diner. Jeff parked right next to Benson, got out, and headed toward me. We all shook hands and walked in.We were a strange mix of people. I was in my BDUs, as usual; Benson in his usual dress slacks, dress shirt, sweater vest, but no tie; Maude was actually wearing a skirt, but it was a little short for a lady of her age, especially considering that she was the town accountant. Then there was Jeff Stevens, a good farmer and grain elevator operator. He was in dusty bib overalls and a cap. Our group, accompanied by Mort in an expensive suit, stood out like a strobe light on a dark night.There was a table big enough for us in the corner, so we went straight to it. As we sat, Maude said, "Benson and I. Around her slim, black-nylon clad ankles she wore silver anklets. She stood up and slinked over to her full-length mirror and looked at herself, her eyes wondering up and down, adjusting little things here and there. She uttered one word; "Perfect." Then she sprayed herself liberally with her favourite perfume, 'Poison', pulled on a trench coat and went down stairs to wait for the Predator who would soon be here to take her out on her first adventure with him.Michele now stood on the other side of the huge four poster bed and looked down at her captive. He was tied to the bed in the same fashion as his wife; lashed to the frame of the bed by nylon stockings. He was wearing a black dinner suit but the jacket had been discarded before the man was restrained on the bed. His crisp white formal shirt was unbuttoned; the tails untucked from his trousers and the shirt wide open displaying his dark hairy chest. His black dress trousers had been pulled down to his ankles so that only his.
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