Previous chapter here:-
http://www.ticklingforum.com/showthread.php?t=134863
Many apologies for the huge gap between chapters, and thanks to those who have requested that the series return. Here at last is the next chapter, with plenty more to follow n a much more regular basis.
Chapter Four, Part Two
Netball had been a joy. Zoe had played her best game in years, moving, passing and shooting with a freedom and grace that very rarely came her way. She was always one of the best players on her team, but today she had been on a completely different level. She knew who she had to thank for that, of course. The little brunette who was having some "me time" that evening; whose efforts had allowed Zoe to let out all of her negativity, and helped her to play so wonderfully.
She leaned back on the dressing room bench, exhausted but exhilarated after her efforts. She took her shoes and socks off, and stretched her long legs in front of her. Her feet were hot from the exercise, and she made a mental note to pick up some foot cream on the way home.
"You were awesome today, Zoe".
Zoe looked up and saw that Sam Russell had sat down on the bench next to her. Sam was short, and for a netball player practically miniscule. Despite this, she was possibly the best player on the team, with a great ability to read the game and almost boundless energy. She was also one of the finest students at the university, an IT genius with straight A grades who was deciding whether or not to spend her next year on secondment to Harvard. Zoe liked Sam a lot, and that was before she considered her looks. Sam was seriously hot. Fluffy blonde hair even more wild than usual after exercise, round breasts, a flat tummy and short, tanned little legs.
"I know, best I've played in ages" said Zoe. She was watching as Sam unlaced her trainers, and pulled off her sports socks. Really cute little bare feet, Zoe thought. She smiled mischievously to herself as she imagined the fun Nikki would have with those little beauties.
"Hey, Zoe, do you fancy grabbing a quick drink? There's something I'd like to run past you."
"Sure" said Zoe, intrigued.
**
Elena Foritskaya felt unusually nervous as her guests were shown into her study. She had done plenty of business with dangerous people over the years, but this woman,and the organisation she represented, were on a different scale.
"Elena Foritskaya", she said, stepping forward to meet the slim blonde woman in the middle of her three visitors.
"Mel Braiden. A pleasure,Ms Foritskaya." She made no move to introduce her companions, who were clearly her personal bodyguard.
Mel Braiden sat down without being invited to do so,and launched straight into her business.
"Ms Foritskaya, as you will now be aware, The Network is an - organisation - of extremely powerful and influential women from around the world. They share a taste in a very rare and valuable commodity. Beautiful, skilled, ticklish slaves. We are prepared to pay a very high price for the right specimens. We maintain a regular group of suppliers throughout the world, who are required to keep a regular flow of first-class slaves flowing into the Network. The rewards, of course, are vast. Some choose to maintain sub-suppliers. However, should we become dissatisfied - well, the failed supplier would share the fate of the girls she sent. Is that a bargain you wish to enter into, Ms Foritskaya?"
Elena baulked. She was far from used to being threatened in her own home. "Yes" she said, quietly.
"Good" said the American. "I understand you have three sample specimens"
"Yes" said Elena. "Follow me to the dungeon and you may see them."
**
Zoe always enjoyed visiting the Student Union bar. It brought back great memories of her own student days, and white wine was an almost insultingly cheap £1.50 per glass.
On the walk across from the changing rooms they had talked about netball and Sam's studies. Only when they were sitting in an alcove with their drinks did Sam come to the point.
"You're a journalist, right?"
"I try" smiled Zoe.
"OK. Well, this kind of weird thing happened, and I thought - well, I wasn't really sure who to tell."
"Shoot" said Zoe, intrigued.
Sam played with her blonde tresses nervously, unsure how to approach the matter.
"OK. Well, there's this girl, Fi, who was in my hall of residence last year. We're opposites really, but we get on great, and every few weeks we go out, have a few bottles of wine, and she tells me about her successes with the guys."
Her successes, thought Zoe, not yours. Could it be that Sam preferred girls? She didn't know anything about her really, but she did get an insistent picture in her mind of her and Nikki taking one of those little bare feet each......
"Anyway, we were due to go out the other night, and Fi didn't turn up. Which is so unlike her, and not only that, but no text or call or anything, and she wasn't answering her phone. I tried her the next morning too, but nothing. So then I found myself walking just near her house this morning, so I popped over to knock at the door. Just as I got there, this girl was leaving. She asked me if I knew Danielle, Fi's housemate - because she hadn't turned up to a party the night before. The thing is, Zoe, they've both just disappeared!"
**
Fi and Danielle were, at that moment, huddled in adjoining cells below Hilary’s house. They each knew what the other had gone through the previous day, but hadn’t been allowed to discuss it, or even to set eyes on each other.
This was a common ploy of Hilary’s. She would let the initial tickle torture settle in, embed itself in the mind, before commencing the training. Heather remembered that the waiting had driven her mad, not knowing what on earth would happen next. She passed Hilary a glass of wine.
“Thank you, my dear” said Hilary, twirling a lock of Heather’s hair between her fingers. Heather was lying on the floor beside the sofa, stark naked as Hilary liked her.
“They are very quiet” mused Hilary. “I remember you were screaming and shouting for hours after your first session.”
Heather gulped. She remembered it too.
“Let me out, you crazy bitch, let me out” Hilary mimicked.
Heather looked at the floor. She knew where this was leading. She could feel the fingers that held her hair tense up.
“How dare you speak to me like that” said Hilary quietly. “Stand up.”
Heather did as she was told. Eyes to the floor, she raised herself up.
“Please, Miss, you’ve already punished me for this.” Many times.
“How dare you complain! Get down to the cellar at once!”
Heather obeyed, her bare feet pattering quickly as she scampered down the steps to the training room.
Several minutes later, Fi and Danielle had their silent reveries interrupted by piercing screams from along the corridor. That was the girl who had tickled me, Fi thought. For between the squeals all she could make out was the girl called Heather screaming; “Not my feet, Miss. Please, please, not my bare feet……….”
**
Zoe carried her caramel latte to a corner table in Starbucks, and flipped on her macbook. She was convinced that there was something in what Lauren had told her the previous evening. People didn't just go missing; not people like Fi and Danielle. It didn't feel right to her. So, with little regret, she decided to pass on the supermarket opening she was supposed to be covering, and planned to spend the morning seeing what she could find out.
She began by searching through the university records online, to see what more she could find out about the two missing girls. To her disappointment, there was relatively little. Their early academic results were just about acceptable, but certainly not outstanding. Neither appeared to get very involved in extra-curricular activities. Danielle was not mentioned at all, but she did get two hits on Fi. She had initially joined several societies, but had apparently not bothered attending any meetings. She had also been banned from the student union bar for a week the previous November. Zoe did a search of the student newspaper for the date concerned. No names were mentioned, but the paper described an 'incident' in which two girls were involved in a fight during the Saturday night disco. This had to be it. Zoe jotted down the need to find out who Fi had been figting with, and why.
She then navigated to google, and began to search for any evidence of missing people in the area in the past few years. The process was a laborious one, and after a while she went to replenish her coffee, trying not to think about what Cleo would say - and more importantly do - if she got fat on caramel coffee. Eventually, after more than two hours, she thought she had come up with something. There wasn't a pattern, or anything like it, but there were slivers of information; tiny hints that she might, just maybe, be onto something. She looked down at her moleskin notebook, considered the scraps she had put together. Then she called Cleo.
"I need your help" said Zoe. Cleo took her feet of her desk, sat up, and grinned to herself. "It'll cost you", she said.
She felt Zoe gulp on the other end of the line. Then she plunged into her story.
"Fascinating" said Cleo. "So what did you find out?"
"Well," said Zoe, uncertainly. "I've got six - well, possible, disappearances in the last three years. None of them definite or anything. Listen. Number one; Lucy Kettlebrough, 22. A hairdersser, she just failed to turn up for work one day. No close family, known to be a bit unreliable and - reading between the lines - lazy. Never turned up. Number two; Yvonne McKay;20, unemployed, originally from Glasgow. Again, no one to miss her; I only found her because a record was made of her unclaimed benefit payments. Number three, Heather Westing, 24, beautician. This one was pretty widely reported. Number four, Catherine Harold, 18, student. Disappeared in July after learning that she'd failed her exams. Friends assumed she'd given it up to go travelling. Number five, Becky Upwater, 19, erm, a "sex worker". Just seems to have disappeared. Number six, Lucy Wisniewski, 19, recently arrived from Gdansk. Got a job as a waitress, disappared after a week. Cafe owner assumed she'd gone back to Poland. Which she may have done, of course."
"Wow, blondie, that's quite a list" said Cleo, somewhat in awe of her girlfriend's investigative skills. "So what do you need me to do?"
"Check it out from a police angle" said Zoe. "See if, how, when any of these disappearances were reported. Whether they were investigated. Whether there might be any links that didn't show up at the time. Anything that might help us."
"You don't want much, do you? Alright, blondie, I'll check it out. I’ll come round to yours at seven, let you know what I find. But I will expect you to be grateful. I want you to wear the following…..”
***
The cavernous, grey dungeon held a remarkable sight for Elena's visitors.
They were met by two of Elena's guards flanking three girls. Each girl was kneeling on the dungeon floor, eyes down to the ground, wearing light red kimonos and huge, soft slippers.
Mel Braiden cast a critical eye over them.
"To your left" began Elena, indicating a tall, lithe brunette, "is Darina, who is 23 and from Sevastopol. In the centre," this time a short blonde, "is Samarina, 19, from Kharkiv. To the right," now a tall, wavy-haired blonde, "is Liljia, 22 from Kiev."
"Very well" said Mel. "Slave Samarina, please stand and accompany Nadia." Mel's blonde Russian bodyguard took Samarina's hand. "You have bedrooms, Ms Foritskaya?"
"Certainly. My guards here will show the way."
"Good. Slave Liljia, you will go with Malika." The huge black girl grabbed the blonde slave harshly by the wrist.
"Slave Darina, you will follow me. Ms Foritskaya, I would like you to accompany me too."
"Certainly" said Elena, and led the way to the largest training bedroom.
***
Heather had tears in her eyes. She was propped very uncomfortably on the tickling bench. Hilary hadn’t bothered to tie her arms up, so she sat with no back support, her legs stretched in front of her; her bare feet firmly locked into the medieval wooden stocks.
It was little consolation to her that this was happening, in a way, because she had become so good. Because she now gave Hilary no reason to punish her, Hilary had to go back to old offences. Hilary liked to punish her. Liked it very much.
Hilary had attacked with rare enthusiasm, her fingers rapier-like over the soft bare feet presented for punishment. Her breath became heavier, deeper the redder Heather’s soles became, the more Heather begged and screamed.
“Are you sorry, yet, you little slut?” demanded Hilary after half an hour.
“Yes Miss” sighed Heather, unable to catch a breath. “Very sorry, Miss.”
“You will be, by the end of the night” said Hilary menacingly. She briefly left Heather, and returned with a long, soft purple feather. Hilary held it up to show Heather, and then, ever so lightly, began to feather her bare feet. Long, slow strokes as always drew the most agonised reaction from Heather; pulling the electric shock of tickling up steadily from heel to toe.
Heather spent four hours in the stocks having her bare feet tickled, interrupted only twice, both times to lick her Mistress to shattering orgasms. Finally, she was released, and ordered to the shower to clean off the sweat that utterly drenched her. All this time, metres away, Daielle and Fi had listened to every scream, plea and screech from Heather. If this was what they did to each other, thought Fi, what will they do to us? Staring down at her own bare feet, barely aware of what she was doing, she wet herself.
***
Zoe smiled as she opened the door to her visitor, watching the intake of pleasure in Nikki's eyes on her doorstep. As requested, Zoe had put on her netball uniform, but with a couple of modifications. She had found a shirt from a year or two ago that was now tight, the white cotton clinging to her figure. She had omitted to wear a bra, and her hard nipples poked visibly through the cloth.
Her navy shorts really were extremely short, barley covering the tops of her thighs. Finally, she hadn't thought Zoe would want to wade through socks and trainers, so her bare feet, shiny with moisturiser, nails newly clipped, finished off the look.
"Not bad, blondie" said Nikki. "Are you going to let me in then, or stand there in the doorway like a stripper for hire?"
Zoe laughed and let her in. Nikki took off her raincoat and handed it to Zoe to hang up. She wore a figure-hugging black t-shirt and jeans. She sat on the sofa, unzipped her boots, kicked them away, and took off her socks.
"Hard day?" Zoe asked, watching Nikki rub her pink bare feet.
"Bloody right, thanks to you" said Nikki."Thanks" she said, accepting a glass of red wine.
"So did you find anything?" asked Zoe, sipping her wine.
"Oh yes," said Nikki, waving a file at her, "I found out a lot. You, my dear, have a nose for a story".
http://www.ticklingforum.com/showthread.php?t=134863
Many apologies for the huge gap between chapters, and thanks to those who have requested that the series return. Here at last is the next chapter, with plenty more to follow n a much more regular basis.
Chapter Four, Part Two
Netball had been a joy. Zoe had played her best game in years, moving, passing and shooting with a freedom and grace that very rarely came her way. She was always one of the best players on her team, but today she had been on a completely different level. She knew who she had to thank for that, of course. The little brunette who was having some "me time" that evening; whose efforts had allowed Zoe to let out all of her negativity, and helped her to play so wonderfully.
She leaned back on the dressing room bench, exhausted but exhilarated after her efforts. She took her shoes and socks off, and stretched her long legs in front of her. Her feet were hot from the exercise, and she made a mental note to pick up some foot cream on the way home.
"You were awesome today, Zoe".
Zoe looked up and saw that Sam Russell had sat down on the bench next to her. Sam was short, and for a netball player practically miniscule. Despite this, she was possibly the best player on the team, with a great ability to read the game and almost boundless energy. She was also one of the finest students at the university, an IT genius with straight A grades who was deciding whether or not to spend her next year on secondment to Harvard. Zoe liked Sam a lot, and that was before she considered her looks. Sam was seriously hot. Fluffy blonde hair even more wild than usual after exercise, round breasts, a flat tummy and short, tanned little legs.
"I know, best I've played in ages" said Zoe. She was watching as Sam unlaced her trainers, and pulled off her sports socks. Really cute little bare feet, Zoe thought. She smiled mischievously to herself as she imagined the fun Nikki would have with those little beauties.
"Hey, Zoe, do you fancy grabbing a quick drink? There's something I'd like to run past you."
"Sure" said Zoe, intrigued.
**
Elena Foritskaya felt unusually nervous as her guests were shown into her study. She had done plenty of business with dangerous people over the years, but this woman,and the organisation she represented, were on a different scale.
"Elena Foritskaya", she said, stepping forward to meet the slim blonde woman in the middle of her three visitors.
"Mel Braiden. A pleasure,Ms Foritskaya." She made no move to introduce her companions, who were clearly her personal bodyguard.
Mel Braiden sat down without being invited to do so,and launched straight into her business.
"Ms Foritskaya, as you will now be aware, The Network is an - organisation - of extremely powerful and influential women from around the world. They share a taste in a very rare and valuable commodity. Beautiful, skilled, ticklish slaves. We are prepared to pay a very high price for the right specimens. We maintain a regular group of suppliers throughout the world, who are required to keep a regular flow of first-class slaves flowing into the Network. The rewards, of course, are vast. Some choose to maintain sub-suppliers. However, should we become dissatisfied - well, the failed supplier would share the fate of the girls she sent. Is that a bargain you wish to enter into, Ms Foritskaya?"
Elena baulked. She was far from used to being threatened in her own home. "Yes" she said, quietly.
"Good" said the American. "I understand you have three sample specimens"
"Yes" said Elena. "Follow me to the dungeon and you may see them."
**
Zoe always enjoyed visiting the Student Union bar. It brought back great memories of her own student days, and white wine was an almost insultingly cheap £1.50 per glass.
On the walk across from the changing rooms they had talked about netball and Sam's studies. Only when they were sitting in an alcove with their drinks did Sam come to the point.
"You're a journalist, right?"
"I try" smiled Zoe.
"OK. Well, this kind of weird thing happened, and I thought - well, I wasn't really sure who to tell."
"Shoot" said Zoe, intrigued.
Sam played with her blonde tresses nervously, unsure how to approach the matter.
"OK. Well, there's this girl, Fi, who was in my hall of residence last year. We're opposites really, but we get on great, and every few weeks we go out, have a few bottles of wine, and she tells me about her successes with the guys."
Her successes, thought Zoe, not yours. Could it be that Sam preferred girls? She didn't know anything about her really, but she did get an insistent picture in her mind of her and Nikki taking one of those little bare feet each......
"Anyway, we were due to go out the other night, and Fi didn't turn up. Which is so unlike her, and not only that, but no text or call or anything, and she wasn't answering her phone. I tried her the next morning too, but nothing. So then I found myself walking just near her house this morning, so I popped over to knock at the door. Just as I got there, this girl was leaving. She asked me if I knew Danielle, Fi's housemate - because she hadn't turned up to a party the night before. The thing is, Zoe, they've both just disappeared!"
**
Fi and Danielle were, at that moment, huddled in adjoining cells below Hilary’s house. They each knew what the other had gone through the previous day, but hadn’t been allowed to discuss it, or even to set eyes on each other.
This was a common ploy of Hilary’s. She would let the initial tickle torture settle in, embed itself in the mind, before commencing the training. Heather remembered that the waiting had driven her mad, not knowing what on earth would happen next. She passed Hilary a glass of wine.
“Thank you, my dear” said Hilary, twirling a lock of Heather’s hair between her fingers. Heather was lying on the floor beside the sofa, stark naked as Hilary liked her.
“They are very quiet” mused Hilary. “I remember you were screaming and shouting for hours after your first session.”
Heather gulped. She remembered it too.
“Let me out, you crazy bitch, let me out” Hilary mimicked.
Heather looked at the floor. She knew where this was leading. She could feel the fingers that held her hair tense up.
“How dare you speak to me like that” said Hilary quietly. “Stand up.”
Heather did as she was told. Eyes to the floor, she raised herself up.
“Please, Miss, you’ve already punished me for this.” Many times.
“How dare you complain! Get down to the cellar at once!”
Heather obeyed, her bare feet pattering quickly as she scampered down the steps to the training room.
Several minutes later, Fi and Danielle had their silent reveries interrupted by piercing screams from along the corridor. That was the girl who had tickled me, Fi thought. For between the squeals all she could make out was the girl called Heather screaming; “Not my feet, Miss. Please, please, not my bare feet……….”
**
Zoe carried her caramel latte to a corner table in Starbucks, and flipped on her macbook. She was convinced that there was something in what Lauren had told her the previous evening. People didn't just go missing; not people like Fi and Danielle. It didn't feel right to her. So, with little regret, she decided to pass on the supermarket opening she was supposed to be covering, and planned to spend the morning seeing what she could find out.
She began by searching through the university records online, to see what more she could find out about the two missing girls. To her disappointment, there was relatively little. Their early academic results were just about acceptable, but certainly not outstanding. Neither appeared to get very involved in extra-curricular activities. Danielle was not mentioned at all, but she did get two hits on Fi. She had initially joined several societies, but had apparently not bothered attending any meetings. She had also been banned from the student union bar for a week the previous November. Zoe did a search of the student newspaper for the date concerned. No names were mentioned, but the paper described an 'incident' in which two girls were involved in a fight during the Saturday night disco. This had to be it. Zoe jotted down the need to find out who Fi had been figting with, and why.
She then navigated to google, and began to search for any evidence of missing people in the area in the past few years. The process was a laborious one, and after a while she went to replenish her coffee, trying not to think about what Cleo would say - and more importantly do - if she got fat on caramel coffee. Eventually, after more than two hours, she thought she had come up with something. There wasn't a pattern, or anything like it, but there were slivers of information; tiny hints that she might, just maybe, be onto something. She looked down at her moleskin notebook, considered the scraps she had put together. Then she called Cleo.
"I need your help" said Zoe. Cleo took her feet of her desk, sat up, and grinned to herself. "It'll cost you", she said.
She felt Zoe gulp on the other end of the line. Then she plunged into her story.
"Fascinating" said Cleo. "So what did you find out?"
"Well," said Zoe, uncertainly. "I've got six - well, possible, disappearances in the last three years. None of them definite or anything. Listen. Number one; Lucy Kettlebrough, 22. A hairdersser, she just failed to turn up for work one day. No close family, known to be a bit unreliable and - reading between the lines - lazy. Never turned up. Number two; Yvonne McKay;20, unemployed, originally from Glasgow. Again, no one to miss her; I only found her because a record was made of her unclaimed benefit payments. Number three, Heather Westing, 24, beautician. This one was pretty widely reported. Number four, Catherine Harold, 18, student. Disappeared in July after learning that she'd failed her exams. Friends assumed she'd given it up to go travelling. Number five, Becky Upwater, 19, erm, a "sex worker". Just seems to have disappeared. Number six, Lucy Wisniewski, 19, recently arrived from Gdansk. Got a job as a waitress, disappared after a week. Cafe owner assumed she'd gone back to Poland. Which she may have done, of course."
"Wow, blondie, that's quite a list" said Cleo, somewhat in awe of her girlfriend's investigative skills. "So what do you need me to do?"
"Check it out from a police angle" said Zoe. "See if, how, when any of these disappearances were reported. Whether they were investigated. Whether there might be any links that didn't show up at the time. Anything that might help us."
"You don't want much, do you? Alright, blondie, I'll check it out. I’ll come round to yours at seven, let you know what I find. But I will expect you to be grateful. I want you to wear the following…..”
***
The cavernous, grey dungeon held a remarkable sight for Elena's visitors.
They were met by two of Elena's guards flanking three girls. Each girl was kneeling on the dungeon floor, eyes down to the ground, wearing light red kimonos and huge, soft slippers.
Mel Braiden cast a critical eye over them.
"To your left" began Elena, indicating a tall, lithe brunette, "is Darina, who is 23 and from Sevastopol. In the centre," this time a short blonde, "is Samarina, 19, from Kharkiv. To the right," now a tall, wavy-haired blonde, "is Liljia, 22 from Kiev."
"Very well" said Mel. "Slave Samarina, please stand and accompany Nadia." Mel's blonde Russian bodyguard took Samarina's hand. "You have bedrooms, Ms Foritskaya?"
"Certainly. My guards here will show the way."
"Good. Slave Liljia, you will go with Malika." The huge black girl grabbed the blonde slave harshly by the wrist.
"Slave Darina, you will follow me. Ms Foritskaya, I would like you to accompany me too."
"Certainly" said Elena, and led the way to the largest training bedroom.
***
Heather had tears in her eyes. She was propped very uncomfortably on the tickling bench. Hilary hadn’t bothered to tie her arms up, so she sat with no back support, her legs stretched in front of her; her bare feet firmly locked into the medieval wooden stocks.
It was little consolation to her that this was happening, in a way, because she had become so good. Because she now gave Hilary no reason to punish her, Hilary had to go back to old offences. Hilary liked to punish her. Liked it very much.
Hilary had attacked with rare enthusiasm, her fingers rapier-like over the soft bare feet presented for punishment. Her breath became heavier, deeper the redder Heather’s soles became, the more Heather begged and screamed.
“Are you sorry, yet, you little slut?” demanded Hilary after half an hour.
“Yes Miss” sighed Heather, unable to catch a breath. “Very sorry, Miss.”
“You will be, by the end of the night” said Hilary menacingly. She briefly left Heather, and returned with a long, soft purple feather. Hilary held it up to show Heather, and then, ever so lightly, began to feather her bare feet. Long, slow strokes as always drew the most agonised reaction from Heather; pulling the electric shock of tickling up steadily from heel to toe.
Heather spent four hours in the stocks having her bare feet tickled, interrupted only twice, both times to lick her Mistress to shattering orgasms. Finally, she was released, and ordered to the shower to clean off the sweat that utterly drenched her. All this time, metres away, Daielle and Fi had listened to every scream, plea and screech from Heather. If this was what they did to each other, thought Fi, what will they do to us? Staring down at her own bare feet, barely aware of what she was doing, she wet herself.
***
Zoe smiled as she opened the door to her visitor, watching the intake of pleasure in Nikki's eyes on her doorstep. As requested, Zoe had put on her netball uniform, but with a couple of modifications. She had found a shirt from a year or two ago that was now tight, the white cotton clinging to her figure. She had omitted to wear a bra, and her hard nipples poked visibly through the cloth.
Her navy shorts really were extremely short, barley covering the tops of her thighs. Finally, she hadn't thought Zoe would want to wade through socks and trainers, so her bare feet, shiny with moisturiser, nails newly clipped, finished off the look.
"Not bad, blondie" said Nikki. "Are you going to let me in then, or stand there in the doorway like a stripper for hire?"
Zoe laughed and let her in. Nikki took off her raincoat and handed it to Zoe to hang up. She wore a figure-hugging black t-shirt and jeans. She sat on the sofa, unzipped her boots, kicked them away, and took off her socks.
"Hard day?" Zoe asked, watching Nikki rub her pink bare feet.
"Bloody right, thanks to you" said Nikki."Thanks" she said, accepting a glass of red wine.
"So did you find anything?" asked Zoe, sipping her wine.
"Oh yes," said Nikki, waving a file at her, "I found out a lot. You, my dear, have a nose for a story".
