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Dr. Nays sleep.

Who's gonna eat you? I'm gonna eat you.

Who's gonna eat you? I'm gonna eat you.

After taunting the cream filled donut in my hand, I took a bite.

The smooth chocolate frosting and the light cream

mixed in my mouth to elicit an exaggerated groan of orgasmic delight.

Ooh, yeah.

I leaned back in the driver's seat of my disaster area of a car,

and reveled in the sugary goodness.

But as my eyelids twitched open and I peered out the window, I saw my target

coming out of the massage parlor earlier than expected.

Oh, shoot! I said, the second word muffled as I jammed the rest of the donut in my mouth and got ready for action.

The donut box sat on my passenger seat next to my X-DM Elite elite tactical OSP 9mm pistol, complete with a suppressor.

I had already eaten three of the six donuts,

because there's not much else to do on a steak out but eat junk food.

I'll be the first to admit that I was gaining a little weight.

Okay, more than a little.

But my days of chasing targets down on foot were long gone.

...