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As soon as they saw the angel come their way, rifle fire erupted from the cars' windows. I didn't want to leave trigger happy riflemen behind me in case one of them noticed something black occluding the stars. The riflemen's night-vision would be ruined from looking at all the fires, but I'd rather play safe, and I could play playfully too.I ZOOMED the light blob toward them, having it split into two, four, then eight Guardian Angels. They zoomed around the cars, causing chaos as the drivers slammed on the brakes and/or turned sharply. There would certainly have been accidents, probably bad ones as I doubted the occupants were wearing their seatbelts, but I saved them by grabbing hold of each car and lifting them a few feet into the air, decelerating them as I turned them over. I pulled the rifles and pistols out of everyone's hands. I could've demonstrated to them that bullets don't harm Guardian Angel's, but I was sure there'd be ample proof of that before this night was over, so I. I thought we could dance." Wouldn't that be uncomfortable for you? I mean, with that big fat hard-on I can see in your pants?"Carl almost dropped his drink in convulsive reaction to her lewd words. He had never heard a woman talk in such lascivious terms! "Verna... cut it out, for Pete's sake!"She giggled, uncrossing her legs and stretching out on the couch until her face was close to his and her breath was a branding iron against his cheeks. "That wonderful hard-on that's all mine, Carl honey! That hard, hard prick of yours! You don't want to dance with me and have me rubbing my soft little pussy against it, do you?"Carl's breath quickened at her obscenities."Kiss me!" she whispered throatily. "That's what you really want to do, isn't it? Well, I'm your wife now." She took both their glasses and set them on the table. "So kiss me!"Carl kissed her, there on the couch where they lounged against the cushions. He might have kissed her in a dozen ways, but he kissed her with his tongue.
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That brought me back to the problem of finding some additional helping hands so we’d have more time for each other. I knew Stacey was pleased with Miriam, but there were aspects of life that couldn’t be solved with a tongue stud, and we couldn’t just wait around, hoping we’d run into somebody suitable. Stacey had sounded dismissive but agreeable when I’d suggested a job posting. With the economy the way it was, we’d been deluged with applications. Naturally I’d had to read them all myself. She apparently chose to accept my not-quite-apology — or Miriam was distracting her. ‘What — aaaaah — do you think about this one?’ Stacey asked. ‘She seems like a good prospect,’ I offered, belatedly handing over the hairs. ‘I think she might clean up quite nicely.’ I hadn’t had time to re-read it and couldn’t remember the details of Irene’s resume, but nobody made it to an interview if they were an idiot or unsuitable. The point of the interview was to do the weeding that we couldn’t do otherwise.

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