There, a security guard reviewed her paperwork real fast before handing the clipboard to the technician at the desk. The morgue tech, a middle-aged Hi...panic man, looked over the paperwork and then tugged at the zipper at the feet of the body bag. As the plastic fell away, Saema’s feet, which had been pressed against the bag’s inside, fell forward, exposing her pretty, soft soles to the room.The Hispanic tech read the information on her toe tag and compared it to information on the paperwork. “That’s a long story,” I replied. “It involved a little teasing, some debauchery and being in the right spot at the right time. How did you get yours?”“The very same way,” Mandy replied, flipping a strand of errant hair out of her face.“Mostly debauchery,” I shot back.“Maybe a little, but not a lot,” Mandy replied. “I’m pretty conservative.”Yeah, right, I thought to myself. Mandy had a rock-solid body. I had seen her in gym shorts, and tight-fitting t-shirts, jogging the neighborhood. If she. More

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