Free F Paul Wilson - Sims 02 by The Portero Method (v5.0)

surreal sicko getups. His
stupefaction that anyone could find these pathetic creatures even remotely
erotic quickly faded, replaced by a deeper revulsion as he noticed the bruises
on their shaved limbs, their dead dull eyes. They looked like desiccated shells
as they sat and smoked and stared at him.
                 Smoked…he’d never known a sim to
smoke.
                 He had to get out of here. Now.
                 “I…I think I’ve changed my mind.”
                 “What’s the matter?” She looked
genuinely offended. “We got the best in town.”
                 Patrick started backing toward the
hallway. “I’m sure you do, it’s just that I…nothing personal, but I don’t think
I’m ready yet.”
                 Glaring now, Mona said, “Then why’d
you come?”
                 “A friend told me to.” God, he wanted
to kill Romy. “Said I’d find it enlightening. But I
don’t.”
                 He turned and headed for the door
where the bouncer waited.
                 “Jerry!” Mona called out behind him.
“Something’s not right with this guy.”
                 Jerry placed himself between Patrick
and the door.
                 “You got a problem, pal?”
                 Oh, no, Patrick thought as his gut
clenched. He’s going to beat the shit out of me.
                 “Yeah,” Patrick said, pressing one
hand against his stomach and the other over his mouth. “I think I’m going to be
sick.” He retched for effect.
                 “Don’t you even fuckin dream of it,
asshole! You puke in here, you’re gonna clean it
up—with your tongue!”
                 Patrick retched again, louder this
time. “Oh, God!” He doubled over.
                 “Motherf—”
                 He felt the back of his coat bunch as
Jerry grabbed a fistful of fabric, heard the door swing open, and then he was
propelled into the stink of the alley. He stumbled, almost lost his footing,
but managed to stay upright as he skidded to a halt against the brick wall on
the far side.
                 Patrick didn’t stop to look back. He
pushed off the wall and hurried from the alley at something just short of a
trot. He found Romy waiting for him on the sidewalk.
                 “Well?” she said, raising her
eyebrows.
                 “Damn it, Romy!”
                 He’d half expected some sort of
ha-ha-the-joke’s-on-you attitude, but she was all business.
                 “I take it you ran into a few sims .”
                 “You know damn well I did!” God, he
was pissed. He felt besmirched, belittled, diminished. If she’d been a guy he’d
be taking a poke at her right now. “Why the hell—?”
                 She held up one hand to silence him
and raised the other to her lips. He realized she was holding a PCA.
                 “My man inside confirms the sims are there. It’s a go.”
                 “What’s a go?” Patrick said.
                 “A raid,” she said. “Let’s get out of
the way.”
                 She led him across the street. The
first blue-and-white NYPD units were screeching to a halt in front of the alley
by the time they reached the opposite curb. Patrick watched fascinated as a
small horde of blue uniforms swarmed toward the dented door.
                 Patrick stared at Romy. “You’re a
cop?”
                 “No. And this sort of work isn’t
really a kosher part of my OPRR duties, but I’ve made it so. I snoop around. I
talk to people, people talk to me. I’ve been watching this place for some time. Took me a while to find the rear exit. Once I had
that, I brought in NYPD.”
                 “Then what did you need me for? Why’d
you send me in