Winter was settling in, and I could see the end of the year. My career had finally reached a turning point. The publishing of Mother May I, by Connor Strathclyde. Looking back on this years later, it's hard to separate my life now from my life then, but it's important to remember that, at the time, I was still relatively unknown. My name was out there, because of the Strangerville expose, but they hadn't yet awarded the Simlitzer, so publishing this book was going to get my name out there a whole lot more. And, importantly, earn me some royalties. I hadn't gotten much of an advance, which is something that would change for future books.

 

While I was enjoying the first sales reports and the first royalty checks, I was also continuing to follow the Selvadorada story.

 

 

As usual, my visits down there included continuing to explore and loot the ancient Omiscan ruins, and continuing to pound Selvadoradan pussy.

 

 

Finally, I got permission from an especially corrupt (but especially expensive, so my editor had to front me these expenses) official to explore one of the temple complexes deep in the jungle.

 

 

I discovered fascinating objects there, skeletons adorned with precious gems, totems that seemed to have some sort of calendrical significance, and so forth. Obviously, I detailed a lot of this stuff in my second book, Fear and Loathing in Selvadorada. Anyway, in that temple, I hit the jackpot, and headed back home in possession of a collection of beautiful, golden, bejeweled frogs.

 

 

Of course, Fear and Loathing was only one half of what I was working on at the time. That book told of my adventures in Selvadorada. But I was also keeping notes on the black market artifact trade, which were going to go into a separate volume, to be published sometime after, only when my investigation was complete.

 

I contacted the aforementioned Rock Hardin, and let him know I'd come into what I thought might be a very valuable collection. He invited me over to discuss the matter. When I explained what I had, and showed him some pictures, he said that he thought I could probably earn up to thirty thousand simoleons for the set if we could find the right buyer.

 

 

I asked him to make the arrangements, and then, unable to help myself, I started to inquire about his unorthodox lifestyle.

 

 

"Ah, yes," he said. "I noticed you looking at my girls the last time you were here."

 

"Your girls?"

 

"Yes, my girls. They are essentially my servants. They live with me, take care of me, cater to my every desire, and so forth."

 

"Sounds a lot like slaves. Are you peddling flesh in addition to antiquities?"

 

"Oh no," he laughed. "I would never sell flesh. But I have a lot of money, and I have particular tastes, so I have no problem buying flesh. It's so much safer, you see, than visiting prostitutes. These girls are mine and mine alone."

 

 

"I see."

 

"They live here in luxury, they can do whatever they want, but they must be at my beck and call when I demand it. And they cannot share their bodies with anyone but me."

 

"I see."

 

He looked at me curiously. I wasn't sure what he was thinking, but he seemed to sense something in my face at his last comment.

 

"Of course, I do make exceptions on special occasions. Allow me to introduce you to someone. My newest girl, Cami, she wasn't here the last time you visited."

 

 

Cami was quite gorgeous, and followed Hardin's type: sexy, big tits, blonde.

 

"I think," he said, "in recognition of our new business arrangement, it would please me very much if you accept some time with Cami as a show of my good faith in our dealings."

 

And without a word, Cami led me into the bedroom.

 

 

Cami ripped of my condom, and took me in her mouth raw, and as I shot my load deep into her throat, it occurred to me that maybe I didn't want to be a writer investigating the Omsican artifact trade. Maybe I wanted to be an Omiscan artifact trader. I could, after all, get used to this.