They were stretched out, cutting into each other. "... doooo iiiit... toooouch yoooour cuuuunt... taaaaste yoooour puuuussy..."She removed her fingers... She was shaking. "What the hell is going on?" she breathed.Then a single voice broke through the murmur of the voices. "I crave the taste of you!" No!" Melissa's voice trembled. "What do you want? What do you want?"The voices didn't return that afternoon, and when the night came, Melissa was scared to death to fall asleep. What if she would hear. Where did you get Mr. Hudson's number?" I can't tell you that because I don't know. Yesterday, my car was crushed by a tractor-trailer on I-44 in Springfield. I spent hours and hours at the hospital, in great pain, and one of the MANY people who talked to me over that time, picked my phone up off the table beside gurney and tapped that phone number into it. I suspect, as you probably do, that he had some personal animosity against the mafia and picked me out to tell his tale because I was. More

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