Hook lifted his silver spoon of strawberries and cream and looked at Anthea, whose lithe and voluptuous figure sat so closely to his on the padded gilded chairs under the roseate lamps.
A trilling tingling started along his spine. The silver spoon vibrated. By the great savior, as they said, Anthea could set a man's blood on fire!
The trilling persisted. A silver fog obscured his vision. He felt his bones rattling in his skin. He looked at the cheap plastic spoon in his hand and the nauseous slop dripping from it to fall into the scummy pool in the cracked dish on the filthy table. Anthea was cuddling up to him laughing. Her dull orange coverall was stained with grease and dirt....
He saw the battered metalloy cup with the foul water scumming the rim, and he saw Anthea lift it to her lips and drink, and heard her say: "This champagne is the best I've drunk!"
And he knew.
Hook's the motherf#@king man. The end of Vol. 2 finds him about to jettison a dozen sedated boosted women into space; hope he finds a better use for them in Vol. 3 & 4...
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