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David takes control of his older sister.

" I cautiously added, "It's also just spending time with each other, being attentive and romantic, and using nice words about love and caring."

"Oh, yes, but what are the words I should be using for dirty talk and dirty foreplay?"

"Usually, words like penis, intercourse, vagina, labia, and such are too clinical. In dirty talk you'd use words like cock, schlong, prick, or dick; fucking, plowing, boning, or balling; pussy, fur pie, gash, twat, quim, or cunt, and lots of other terms. You can look them up on the Internet. There are hundreds of them."

"Oh, I will, ... and I do want you to stick you long schlong into my cunt, and fuck the daylights out of me until my fur hole is dripping in your man juice."

"Very good, and I promise I will. Let's head home. I want to be attentive to your tight little fur hole and fill it up with my cum."

* * * * *

The police came again on Monday evening.

There was a knock on the door, and Carrie raced into the bedroom stripping her clothes off as I went to open the door. We'd just finished take-out Chinese and had been sitting at the table talking. I glimpsed her purse sitting on the counter, and her girlish jacket on the end of the sofa. I took a deep breath.

Two detectives were there, one of who had been in the first group. I invited them in instead of putting up a stink or asking whether they had warrants and all. I didn't want to act suspiciously.

"Mr. Westerly, we're just revisiting all the leads in the Princess Caroline case again. I'd like to go over last Thursday night with you again."


"Could you recount what the night was like for you, and anything you might remember about the people around you? Please don't worry about telling us the same thing over again, just be as complete as you can."

I stated, "Well, I met my friends Paulie, Bart, Billy, and Dave as agreed in the Washingtonian bar at eight o'clock. Dave now lives in Kansas City, and had flown in for a meeting on Friday before he went back home that night; he was staying at the hotel. We were all college buddies at the U. of M. I think it was more like eight-thirty before we were all there. We got our first round of beers, ordered dinner in no rush, and started to talk about guy things: our jobs, cars, girlfriends, and almost everything under the sun, even some politics. We stretched out the drinks, ogled a few pretty women - four cougars - who came in as a group, but they had only one drink and then they all left. I wasn't facing the door, so I didn't see too many of the people passing by the bar area; Paul or Bart might have. I got tired as the time neared midnight and I had to work on Friday morning. We were pretty well talked out by then anyway. I said goodbye to everyone, and headed off to my car. Let's see, I crossed the lobby to the garage elevator. No one was around. I left the hotel without seeing anybody other than the desk clerk, I took the elevator up to level three where I'd parked, got in my car and drove home. I didn't see anybody in the garage. It took me about a half hour to get home."

The other detective had been taking notes. He asked, "Did you stop in the men's room on your way to your car?"

I thought, "No. I'd gone about a half-hour before I left. I didn't pay much attention to anyone else wandering around on that trip. The bathrooms were right next to the door into the bar."

There was some other conversation about when and where I'd walked through the hotel, and what I'd seen or hadn't seen. I thought it was all pretty predictable. The questions were predicated on me being an observer, rather than a participant in the princess's disappearance.

The first detective showed me a picture of Princess Caroline. She was even posed in a diamond tiara and looked positively regal. "You've never seen this woman?"

"Yes, I have - everyone has; on television recently, and she does sort of look like my girlfriend."


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