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Part two of: Pirate Ships and Rusty Fingertips

A glimpse up Sasha’s prosthetic arm revealed iron, pumps, pistons…and a strap across her blouse, holding it in place. Sasha’s barreled fingers pressed against her. Warmer than expected.

“Hand it to me Pip.”

“I don’t think so. And don’t point that gun so close next time.” Pip leaned as her open hand pushed Sasha’s arm away, then pulled her close. A snap in the arm. Sasha’s cry muffled as her neck collided with Pip’s stiff arm. Sasha choked and gasped. Footsteps grew louder. Voices followed. The door swung open as four men charged in. Hands pinned Pip to the wall.

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