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The Snuff Channel now presents: [i]The Escort Number 3: Room Service[/i] A literally breathtaking performance by Amos Darby and Allison Faulkner, with excellent support from Kiara Turner and Tara Bunker.\"\n\nStarring: \n[b]Tara Bunker[/b] as Delores\n[b]Kiara Turner[/b] as Lora\n[b]Joanie Sessions[/b] as Jean\n[b]Ryann Wolfe[/b] as Terrence\n\n[b]Music[/b] Kylie Reneé Marchand\n\n[b]Costumes[/b] Pamella Starp\n[b]Director of Photography[/b] Henry Osborne\n[b]Executive Producer[/b] Garrette Boone\n[b]Written by[/b] Gaz Henry\n[b]Directed by[/b] Jerri Comstock\n[b]Produced by[/b] Bob King\n\n[b]Academy Awards[/b]\n\n[b]Best Short Snuff Film 2047[/b] \n\n[b]Best Actress in a Snuff Film:[/b] Joanie Sessions\n\n[b]Best Supporting Actor in a Snuff Film:[/b] Ryan Samuels\n\n[b]Best Director of a Snuff Film:[/b] Jerri Comstock\n\n==============================================================\n\n[b]Monday 5:31 PM, Room 824[/b]\n\nDelores paced the floor of her sitting room. [i]I really should report him. But if I do…\n\nNever mind the ifs. I have to do this. I can't live with myself if I don't. Of course, I won't live much longer if I do. Them's the breaks, I guess.[/i]\n\nThe skunk picked up her cellphone and opened a browser to a map function, searched for \"US government\" and \"FBI\". She dialed 9 plus the number. A few seconds later she heard the ring signal, then a male voice. \n\n\"Federal Bureau of Investigations. Please state your business.\"\n\n\"I'd like to… no I need to report a spy.\"\n\n\"Can you hold while I transfer you?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\nDelores listened to some stupid classical music for about 30 seconds, then \"FBI counterintelligence, Special Agent Lynton. You have something to report?\"\n\n\"Yes. My name is Delores Lu. I'm an…\" She paused, embarrassed. \"An escort. One of my clients, I'm almost sure, is a spy. And I… I'm pretty sure I gave away some secrets I wasn't even supposed to have. I didn't mean to, really.'\n\n\"And this wonder occurred… how?\" The sarcasm seemed to drip from the earpiece.\n\n\"Well...I get hired by a lot of politicians...and I liked to brag...So, this guy found me, paid for a two hour 'session,' and then slipped something in my drink. I can't remember everything I told him, but some of it was pretty sensitive.\"\n\nThere was a pause. Delores suspected that SA Lynton was consulting with somebody else. Then, \"What can you tell us about him?\"\n\n\"He's a tiger named Steven Hubert. He lives at 84 River Street in St. Cloud.\"\n\n\"I see. And where are you?\"\n\nDelores hesitated. \"I know that you can find me, but that will take some time. There's one thing I need to do before you bring me in. So have fun.\"\n\nShe hung up the phone, then went back to pacing the floor. Now she was crying, sobbing. She used the sleeve of her blouse to dry her face, but the tears didn't stop. \"No real alternative,\" she muttered to herself. \"I'm going to do it.\" She picked up the room phone and pushed star-8-2.\n\n[b]Monday 5:35 PM, thirteenth floor[/b]\n\nThe phone rang, twice, then once. a wolf picked it up. \"Service department, Lora speaking.\"\n\n\"Hello, is this the [i]Special[/i] Room Service?\"\n\n\"Yes. Can we help you?\"\n\n\"Yes. Room 824. As soon as possible, please.\"\n\n\"Have you chosen the method?\"\n\n\"Umm… No. Could I choose when you get up here?\"\n\n\"Yes, of course.\"\n\n\"Then hurry. Please hurry!\"\n\n[i]Standard protocol calls for offering the customer a choice of snuffers -- male, female, trans. But the woman in 824 seems to be in a desperate hurry. I'll just take care of her[/i]. The wolf grabbed a cart, checked to make sure everything was there, and pressed the button for the service elevator.\n\n[b]Monday 5:39 PM, eighth floor[/b]\n\nThe elevator opened and Lora pushed the cart across the hallway. She knocked on the door.\n\nDelores opened the door about 5 seconds later. Her face was tear-streaked and she was breathing hard. \"Thank goodness you're here. I need it fast. Can you do me?\"\n\nLora wheeled the cart in and opened it, displaying the options:\n\n* a .45 caliber pistol with suppressor\n*a knife\n*a canister with a rubber tube and a face mask\n*a stretchy cord\n\n\"What are these for?\"\n\n\"A bullet in the head is messy but fast. The knife is for your heart or your throat. The can is pure nitrogen gas. You'd be unconscious in ten seconds and dead in fifteen or twenty minutes. And the cord is for strangulation. That also takes about fifteen to twenty minutes, but you get a real experience of it.\"\n\n\"I need it fast. The knife? Is it sharp?\"\n\n\"Try it.\"\n\nDelores picked it up and felt the blade with a finger. \"Oh, yeah, that's sharp.\"\n\n\"Sharper than you know. Here.\" Lora pulled a pressure bandage from the cart and put it on Delores's finger.\n\n\" I didn't even feel that. Let's do it.\"\n\n\"A cut throat is messy. Let's go in the bathroom.\"\n\n\"Okay.\"\n\nLora guided Delores into the bath. \"Now, just kneel in the tub… facing away from me so the blood goes into the tub.\n\nDelores knelt down, facing the far wall. Lora took the knife in one hand and reached around, her other hand feeling for Delores's jugular vein. Just as she found it, Delores shook her head.\n\n\"No! Not the knife!\"\n\n\"What, then?\"\n\n\"I don't know. And don't tell me, just make it fast.\"\n\nLora moved her fingers, feeling the anatomy of Delores's neck. When she was satisfied, she gripped Delores's chin with one hand, put the other hand on the top of the escort's head, and twisted. the skunk heard a sound like a twig snapping. She felt a sharp pain in her neck and then nothing more. She crumpled in a heap against the back wall and lay there unmoving.\n\nLora opened her purse to phone Disposal, then reconsidered. [i]She was in a hurry. Probably somebody was after her. Well, let them find her, for all the good it will do them. [/i]\n\n============================================================================\n\n[b]Thursday, 5:20PM. A hotel corridor[/b]\n\nJeane walked briskly down the hall to room 475 and inserted her key card into the reader, slamming it in with the palm of her hand. \"Ow!\" The green light glowed, she turned the handle and walked in, then turned around and closed it with an audible [i][b]slam![/b][/i]\n============================================================================\nThursday, 5:20PM. Room 475[/b]\n\n\"Well, that was a sucky day.\" She paused. \"In all senses of the word.\"\n\nThe squirrel paced around the room, from the door, past the bed, the desk, the table, back to the door, again and again.\n\n\"Do I really want another day like this one?\"\n\nShe paced some more.\n\n\"No. I do not. I guess I'll…\" Her voice trailed off as she strode over to the desk. She pulled the drawer open and got out the hotel's directory of services and thumbed through the pages until she found it: [i]Special Service -- *82. [/i] She picked up the telephone and pushed the buttons.\n\n[b]Thursday 5:35 PM, Service Department[/b]\n\nThe phone rang. \"Service department, Terrence speaking.\"\n\n\"Hello, is this the [i]Special[/i] Room Service?\n\n\"Yes. Can we help you?\"\n\n\"Yes, please. Room 475.\"\n\n\"You can choose from our three specialists: I am Terrence, a cis-male, but Lora is a cis-female, and Nicky a pre-op trans-woman.\"\n\nThere was a short pause.\n\n\"I'll take you, Terrence. I like the sound of your voice.\"\n\n\"Thank you. And have you chosen the method?\"\n\n\"The, uh… cord, please.\"\n\n\"I'll be there in 2 minutes. Maybe less.\"\n\n\"I'll be waiting.\"\n\nTerrence opened the cart and got out the strangling cord. He took a towel from the shelf, folded it around the cord, then felt in his shirt pocket for the master key card. He pushed the button for the service elevator.\n\n[b]Thursday 5:37 PM, Room 475[/b]\n\nThere was a knock at the door.\n\n\"Come in,\" Jeane called.\n\nThe door opened, Terrence came in carrying a folded up bath towel. \"You asked for special room service?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\nTerrence closed the door quietly, then walked over and stood next to Jeane. \"I could do you here, if you turn that chair around. But maybe you'd prefer to sit on the bed? It's softer.\"\n\n\"Yeah, I guess so.\" Jeane got up and sat on the foot of the bed. \"Like this?\"\n\n\"Yes.\" Terrence knelt on the bed and felt Jeane's neck and shoulders. \"You're very tense. Let me help you get in the mood.\"\n\nJeane was a little surprised, but it seemed a reasonable request. \"Okay.\"\n\nTerrence started gently rubbing Jeane's deltoids. After a couple of minutes, he shifted to her lats. He spent nearly five minutes getting those relaxed. Then he looked around the room. \"Do you have a vibrator?\"\n\n\"Yes, but I called you because I am tired of sex. Eight, nine, ten times a day, the same old stuff. Stick it in, thrust, thrust, thrust, spurt, spurt. Then his weight on top of me and his bad breath in my face. The money is good, but it's so boring.\" She paused, then added, \"Pun not intentional.\"\n\n\"Okay, so you don't like sex with men. Or at least, not with men who pay you for sex. But you requested the strangling cord. I assume you read the options before you called for our service?\"\n\n\"Yes, of course.\"\n\n\"You could have chosen a bullet in the head. Your brain would be destroyed before you even feel the bullet hit your skin. Or I could break your neck. One instant of pain and then nothing. Or you could breathe straight nitrogen gas: two breaths and you're unconscious. Or a cut throat -- that hurts about as much as when you cut a finger while cooking, and you'd bleed to death in less than a minute. So why choose strangling?\"\n\n\"Ummm… it felt right.\"\n\n\"Yes, but why? Maybe because it seems exciting? Sexy, even?\"\n\n\"Oh, yeah, I guess.\"\n\n\"So, why not put your vibe where you can reach it if you want. And no harm done if you don't.\"\n\n\"Well, yeah.\" Jeane got up, opened the dresser, and pulled out an odd-looking plastic thing. She sat down on the bed again and put the vibe next to her.\n\n\"And you might want to take off your clothes -- at least your panties.\"\n\n\"Well… Okay.\" [i]What can it hurt?[/i] She stood up, pulled her panties off and let them fall to the floor, then sat down again.\n\n\"Good. Now I'll begin, if that's okay with you.\"\n\n\"Yes. Please!\"\n\nTerrence unfolded the towel and got out the cord, four feet of nice, smooth 1/8-inch nylon. He put it once around Jeane's neck, crossed the ends, and pulled it up slightly so the bight nestled in the soft spot under her chin. \"Last chance to change your mind.\"\n\nJeane shook her head. \"Just do it.\"\n\nTerrence pulled the ends. Jeane's eyes opened wide as the cord dug into her neck and she realized that she could no longer breathe. After about thirty seconds, her feet kicked a couple of times and her hands tightened on the coverlet, squeezing as hard as she could. Her face showed her desperate need for air, but she didn't fight Terrence or try to loosen the cord.\n\nThen her hands beat on the bed, left, then right, then left, then right. She stared at herself in the mirror, the desperate look in her eyes, and smiled slightly. (voice over) [i]No more wham, bam, thank you ma'am. No more suck, suck splurt and icky tasting stuff to swallow.[/i] [i]I wonder what they eat that makes their jizz taste so bad.[/i] [i]And no more enemas so their dicks won't come out covered with shit when they fuck me in the ass.[/i]\n\nAnd a few seconds later, [i]It's not sex that I don't like. It's bad sex, guys who use me for an animated fleshlight. Sex… can be good.[/i]\n\nWith that realization, Jeane became aware of a need between her legs. Her right hand scrabbled around on the bed until she found her vibe. She worked it into herself, and turned it on. [i]Oh, yeah, that feels… so right…\" [/i]She adjusted the tool so the long end was pressing on her G spot and the cup pulsed against her clit. [i]Yes! \n\n[/i]Jeane's left hand found her boob and squeezed it gently, then harder. She brought her hand to her mouth and licked her fingers, then used them on her nipple. [i]Yes, more. Harder.[/i]\n\nThere was a buzzing sound in Jeane's ears and the light seemed to be turning red. But none of that mattered. Only two needs: her lungs demanding air, and her cunny demanding one last orgasm. Her lungs would have to go unsatisfied, but her cunny and her nipples were…[i] I think I'm going to. [B]YESSSSSSSSSS!!![/b][/i]\n\nAnd somewhere in the middle of that \"yes\", the red turned to black and Jeane stopped thinking or even feeling.\n\nTerrence held the cord tight around Jeane's neck, checking the clock occasionally, for a full 30 minutes. Then he laid her gently back on the bed, picked up his cell phone, thought a second, and put it down again. He peeled Jeane's clothing off and felt between her legs. [i]Yep, she had a real squirter of an orgasm. [/i]He was already hard from strangling her, so he pulled down his slacks and undies and slid into her. [i]Slippery and warm. Perfect. [/i]He fucked Jeane's body and soon filled her cunt with his seed.\n\n\"Yeah, that was nice.\" He wiped himself clean with the sheet, got himself \"decent,\" then picked up his phone and speed-dialed.\n\n\"Disposal.\"\n\n\"This is Terrence, Special Service. Body disposal, room 475.\"\n\n\"It shall be as you have requested.\"\n\nTerrence picked up the towel and the cord and returned to the Service Department.\n", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "based loosely on AF_Escort2 and AF_Escort4

(available from http://www.annesdream.com/, among other sites)

"This is your host, Ronny Weaver. The Snuff Channel now presents: The Escort Number 3: Room Service A literally breathtaking performance by Amos Darby and Allison Faulkner, with excellent support from Kiara Turner and Tara Bunker."

Starring:
Tara Bunker as Delores
Kiara Turner as Lora
Joanie Sessions as Jean
Ryann Wolfe as Terrence

Music Kylie Reneé Marchand

Costumes Pamella Starp
Director of Photography Henry Osborne
Executive Producer Garrette Boone
Written by Gaz Henry
Directed by Jerri Comstock
Produced by Bob King

Academy Awards

Best Short Snuff Film 2047

Best Actress in a Snuff Film:  Joanie Sessions

Best Supporting Actor in a Snuff Film: Ryan Samuels

Best Director of a Snuff Film: Jerri Comstock

==============================================================

Monday 5:31 PM, Room 824

Delores paced the floor of her sitting room. I really should report him. But if I do…

Never mind the ifs. I have to do this. I can't live with myself if I don't. Of course, I won't live much longer if I do. Them's the breaks, I guess.

The skunk picked up her cellphone and opened a browser to a map function, searched for "US government" and "FBI". She dialed 9 plus the number. A few seconds later she heard the ring signal, then a male voice.

"Federal Bureau of Investigations. Please state your business."

"I'd like to… no I need to report a spy."

"Can you hold while I transfer you?"

"Yes."

Delores listened to some stupid classical music for about 30 seconds, then "FBI counterintelligence, Special Agent Lynton. You have something to report?"

"Yes. My name is Delores Lu. I'm an…" She paused, embarrassed. "An escort. One of my clients, I'm almost sure, is a spy. And I… I'm pretty sure I gave away some secrets I wasn't even supposed to have. I didn't mean to, really.'

"And this wonder occurred… how?" The sarcasm seemed to drip from the earpiece.

"Well...I get hired by a lot of politicians...and I liked to brag...So, this guy found me, paid for a two hour 'session,' and then slipped something in my drink.  I can't remember everything I told him, but some of it was pretty sensitive."

There was a pause. Delores suspected that SA Lynton was consulting with somebody else. Then, "What can you tell us about him?"

"He's a tiger named Steven Hubert. He lives at 84 River Street in St. Cloud."

"I see. And where are you?"

Delores hesitated. "I know that you can find me, but that will take some time. There's one thing I need to do before you bring me in. So have fun."

She hung up the phone, then went back to pacing the floor. Now she was crying, sobbing. She used the sleeve of her blouse to dry her face, but the tears didn't stop. "No real alternative," she muttered to herself. "I'm going to do it." She picked up the room phone and pushed star-8-2.

Monday 5:35 PM, thirteenth floor

The phone rang, twice, then once. a wolf picked it up. "Service department, Lora speaking."

"Hello, is this the Special Room Service?"

"Yes. Can we help you?"

"Yes. Room 824. As soon as possible, please."

"Have you chosen the method?"

"Umm… No. Could I choose when you get up here?"

"Yes, of course."

"Then hurry. Please hurry!"

Standard protocol calls for offering the customer a choice of snuffers -- male, female, trans. But the woman in 824 seems to be in a desperate hurry. I'll just take care of her. The wolf grabbed a cart, checked to make sure everything was there, and pressed the button for the service elevator.

Monday 5:39 PM, eighth floor

The elevator opened and Lora pushed the cart across the hallway. She knocked on the door.

Delores opened the door about 5 seconds later. Her face was tear-streaked and she was breathing hard. "Thank goodness you're here. I need it fast. Can you do me?"

Lora wheeled the cart in and opened it, displaying the options:

* a .45 caliber pistol with suppressor
*a knife
*a canister with a rubber tube and a face mask
*a stretchy cord

"What are these for?"

"A bullet in the head is messy but fast. The knife is for your heart or your throat. The can is pure nitrogen gas. You'd be unconscious in ten seconds and dead in fifteen or twenty minutes. And the cord is for strangulation. That also takes about fifteen to twenty minutes, but you get a real experience of it."

"I need it fast. The knife? Is it sharp?"

"Try it."

Delores picked it up and felt the blade with a finger. "Oh, yeah, that's sharp."

"Sharper than you know. Here." Lora pulled a pressure bandage from the cart and put it on Delores's finger.

" I didn't even feel that. Let's do it."

"A cut throat is messy. Let's go in the bathroom."

"Okay."

Lora guided Delores into the bath. "Now, just kneel in the tub… facing away from me so the blood goes into the tub.

Delores knelt down, facing the far wall. Lora took the knife in one hand and reached around, her other hand feeling for Delores's jugular vein. Just as she found it, Delores shook her head.

"No! Not the knife!"

"What, then?"

"I don't know. And don't tell me, just make it fast."

Lora moved her fingers, feeling the anatomy of Delores's neck. When she was satisfied, she gripped Delores's chin with one hand, put the other hand on the top of the escort's head, and twisted. the skunk heard a sound like a twig snapping. She felt a sharp pain in her neck and then nothing more. She crumpled in a heap against the back wall and lay there unmoving.

Lora opened her purse to phone Disposal, then reconsidered. She was in a hurry. Probably somebody was after her. Well, let them find her, for all the good it will do them.

============================================================================

Thursday, 5:20PM. A hotel corridor

Jeane walked briskly down the hall to room 475 and inserted her key card into the reader, slamming it in with the palm of her hand. "Ow!" The green light glowed, she turned the handle and walked in, then turned around and closed it with an audible slam!
============================================================================
Thursday, 5:20PM. Room 475[/b]

"Well, that was a sucky day." She paused. "In all senses of the word."

The squirrel paced around the room, from the door, past the bed, the desk, the table, back to the door, again and again.

"Do I really want another day like this one?"

She paced some more.

"No. I do not. I guess I'll…" Her voice trailed off as she strode over to the desk. She pulled the drawer open and got out the hotel's directory of services and thumbed through the pages until she found it: Special Service -- *82. She picked up the telephone and pushed the buttons.

Thursday 5:35 PM, Service Department

The phone rang. "Service department, Terrence speaking."

"Hello, is this the Special Room Service?

"Yes. Can we help you?"

"Yes, please. Room 475."

"You can choose  from our three specialists: I am Terrence, a cis-male, but Lora is a cis-female, and Nicky a pre-op trans-woman."

There was a short pause.

"I'll take you, Terrence. I like the sound of your voice."

"Thank you. And have you chosen the method?"

"The, uh… cord, please."

"I'll be there in 2 minutes. Maybe less."

"I'll be waiting."

Terrence opened the cart and got out the strangling cord. He took a towel from the shelf, folded it around the cord, then felt in his shirt pocket for the master key card. He pushed the button for the service elevator.

Thursday 5:37 PM, Room 475

There was a knock at the door.

"Come in," Jeane called.

The door opened, Terrence came in carrying a folded up bath towel. "You asked for special room service?"

"Yes."

Terrence closed the door quietly, then walked over and stood next to Jeane. "I could do you here, if you turn that chair around. But maybe you'd prefer to sit on the bed? It's softer."

"Yeah, I guess so." Jeane got up and sat on the foot of the bed. "Like this?"

"Yes." Terrence knelt on the bed and felt Jeane's neck and shoulders. "You're very tense. Let me help you get in the mood."

Jeane was a little surprised, but it seemed a reasonable request. "Okay."

Terrence started gently rubbing Jeane's deltoids. After a couple of minutes, he shifted to her lats. He spent nearly five minutes getting those relaxed. Then he looked around the room. "Do you have a vibrator?"

"Yes, but I called you because I am tired of sex. Eight, nine, ten times a day, the same old stuff. Stick it in, thrust, thrust, thrust, spurt, spurt. Then his weight on top of me and his bad breath in my face. The money is good, but it's so boring." She paused, then added, "Pun not intentional."

"Okay, so you don't like sex with men. Or at least, not with men who pay you for sex. But you requested the strangling cord. I assume you read the options before you called for our service?"

"Yes, of course."

"You could have chosen a bullet in the head. Your brain would be destroyed before you even feel the bullet hit your skin. Or I could break your neck. One instant of pain and then nothing. Or you could breathe straight nitrogen gas: two breaths and you're unconscious. Or a cut throat -- that hurts about as much as when you cut a finger while cooking, and you'd bleed to death in less than a minute. So why choose strangling?"

"Ummm… it felt right."

"Yes, but why? Maybe because it seems exciting? Sexy, even?"

"Oh, yeah, I guess."

"So, why not put your vibe where you can reach it if you want. And no harm done if you don't."

"Well, yeah." Jeane got up, opened the dresser, and pulled out an odd-looking plastic thing. She sat down on the bed again and put the vibe next to her.

"And you might want to take off your clothes -- at least your panties."

"Well… Okay." What can it hurt? She stood up, pulled her panties off and let them fall to the floor, then sat down again.

"Good. Now I'll begin, if that's okay with you."

"Yes. Please!"

Terrence unfolded the towel and got out the cord, four feet of nice, smooth 1/8-inch nylon. He put it once around Jeane's neck, crossed the ends, and pulled it up slightly so the bight nestled in the soft spot under her chin. "Last chance to change your mind."

Jeane shook her head. "Just do it."

Terrence pulled the ends. Jeane's eyes opened wide as the cord dug into her neck and she realized that she could no longer breathe. After about thirty seconds, her feet kicked a couple of times and her hands tightened on the coverlet, squeezing as hard as she could. Her face showed her desperate need for air, but she didn't fight Terrence or try to loosen the cord.

Then her hands beat on the bed, left, then right, then left, then right. She stared at herself in the mirror, the desperate look in her eyes, and smiled slightly. (voice over) No more wham, bam, thank you ma'am. No more suck, suck splurt and icky tasting stuff to swallow. I wonder what they eat that makes their jizz taste so bad. And no more enemas so their dicks won't come out covered with shit when they fuck me in the ass.

And a few seconds later, It's not sex that I don't like. It's bad sex, guys who use me for an animated fleshlight. Sex… can be good.

With that realization, Jeane became aware of a need between her legs. Her right hand scrabbled around on the bed until she found her vibe. She worked it into herself, and turned it on. Oh, yeah, that feels… so right…" She adjusted the tool so the long end was pressing on her G spot and the cup pulsed against her clit. Yes!

Jeane's left hand found her boob and squeezed it gently, then harder. She brought her hand to her mouth and licked her fingers, then used them on her nipple. Yes, more. Harder.

There was a buzzing sound in Jeane's ears and the light seemed to be turning red. But none of that mattered. Only two needs: her lungs demanding air, and her cunny demanding one last orgasm. Her lungs would have to go unsatisfied, but her cunny and her nipples were… I think I'm going to. YESSSSSSSSSS!!!

And somewhere in the middle of that "yes", the red turned to black and Jeane stopped thinking or even feeling.

Terrence held the cord tight around Jeane's neck, checking the clock occasionally, for a full 30 minutes. Then he laid her gently back on the bed, picked up his cell phone, thought a second, and put it down again. He peeled Jeane's clothing off and felt between her legs. Yep, she had a real squirter of an orgasm. He was already hard from strangling her, so he pulled down his slacks and undies and slid into her. Slippery and warm. Perfect. He fucked Jeane's body and soon filled her cunt with his seed.

"Yeah, that was nice." He wiped himself clean with the sheet, got himself "decent," then picked up his phone and speed-dialed.

"Disposal."

"This is Terrence, Special Service. Body disposal, room 475."

"It shall be as you have requested."

Terrence picked up the towel and the cord and returned to the Service Department.
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