Clarissa Morgen was on the hunt. Her journalism career has been in a slump for almost 3 months and her editors have been bugging her non-stop to write a groundbreaking story. After a lot of exhausting all-nighters, she found a story that caught her attention. In recent weeks, several houses were broken in within the city. According to her sources, inside every house that was broken in a painting of a galleon was torn. Intrigued by these patterns, she did some investigating in the hopes of finding something out. She could almost figure out the pattern, but there is always something missing. 5 houses have were broken in. 5 paintings were ripped. All paintings seem to have the canvas ripped and those ripped portions were now missing. Specifically, the part where the mast of the galleon was painted. Today, she read from a newspaper that a house was broken in. As she read through, the article mentioned that nothing was stolen, but a painting of a galleon was torn into tatters. The owner of the painting said that when he bought the painting he noticed some markings, or lines, behind the canvas. Excited by her discovery, she grabbed her stuff and left her apartment to visit that house and ask the owners and the neighbors some questions. As she walked through the crowded streets, a man bumped her hard enough for her to lose her balance. She was about to stumble when the man grabbed her arm and helped her regain her balance. Before she can thank him, the man already left. She continued walking when a phone rang inside her pockets, but her phone was in her bag. She picked the phone from her pocket and an unregistered number was calling the phone. She answered the phone, "Hello?" but there was no answer. The caller hung up, then she noticed that the caller left a message. "Pipeline Bar. 6:30 pm. Today. Information about the ripped galleon paintings." Her heart skipped a beat. This could be an informant. She doubted if it was safe to go meet some stranger. She is nervous about this, but remembering her slump, her editor could terminate her if she could not produce something. Against her instincts, she decided to go meet this stranger and walked towards Pipeline Bar. Standing outside the door of Pipeline Bar, she can tell that there are few, to no people inside. Breathing nervously, she entered the bar. As she guessed, there was no one inside the bar, save for a man in a black coat, and the bartender. The man, she thought, looks decent, but there is something in the way he looked at her that made her shiver. The man in the coat noticed her staring. He raised his phone to her. "This must be him." she thought. She sat next to the man and asked him. "Is this your phone?" Clarissa asked the man. "Yes." He answered. "Why go through all these and meet in an empty bar?" "What I am about to tell you is something about your investigation about the ripped galleon paintings. Something that could expose someone from the police." The man told her in a grim tone. Her curiosity aroused, she asked. "Why tell me this and why me?" Before he could answer, the bartender brought him a glass with whiskey on it. "Can I buy you a drink?" He asked, smiling at her. "Sure." She replied and then faced the bartender. "I'll have what he's having." The bartender gave her a glass and Clarissa gulped her drink, emptying her glass within seconds to get down to business. "My name is Mike Larson." the man began "I work as the mechanic of the master of Russel Manor, the rich, old gentleman named Arthur Russel. A few months ago, somebody stole a map from his private office. The map leads to a vault somewhere within the city, to one of the old properties owned by Mr. Russel." Clarissa tried to listen intently, but she noticed her attention was slightly fading. "By the way, how are you feeling?" The man asked while smiling leeringly. Something wasn't right. Her head was starting to feel light and the room started spinning. "You know," Mike started while reaching for her shoulders. "I've been following you for weeks. And we were worried that you were going to find something out." Clarissa felt her strength escape her body. "Oh No! He drugged me!" Clarissa thought to herself. She tried to get away from him, but her legs felt like jelly and she lost her balance. She felt Mike grabbing her, put his arms under her arms from behind her, and pulled her close him. One of his hands reached for her neck. His fingers lingered on the top button of her shirt, while his other hand grabbed her breast. She realized that he's trying to unbutton her shirt, but she couldn't pry his hands because she felt so weak, so helpless. "We had someone hack your computer, and we looked through all your files. You did some good research. I also enjoyed watching you undress from your computer camera. I must say, along with that beautiful face, you have very nice tits, ass, and smooth thighs." Clarissa moaned as she became dizzier every second. "I decided to capture you before you could find more. I had the bartender drug you. You'll be out for hours and it will give me plenty of time to fondle that majestic body of yours. Rest assured, I will not leave an inch of your body untouched. Mike unbuttoned 3 buttons from Clarissa's shirt. She resisted but it was futile. The hand that grabbed her breast now moved to her ass and felt him grabbing and caressing them. "No. Stop." She begged him, but her resistance came out as a whisper. He looked into her eyes and saw her eyes roll slowly as she moaned one last time, and then lost consciousness. He then grabbed her breast again through her shirt, and squeezed it. He smiled and cannot wait to do the things he wants to her limp, naked body. He cradle-carried her limp body, he stared at her exposed neck. He laid her on her back on the nearby table. He continued unbuttoning her shirt. Slowly. Button by button. He discarded her shirt away and leered at her bra-clad breasts. He put his hands under her bra and squeezed her breasts. He freed one of her breasts. Her pink nipples are erect. He proceeded to suck her ample breast. He then started to unbutton her pants. He grabbed the waistband of her pants, and tugged them slowly off her legs. He laid his hands on her smooth thighs, and slid them up and down. Up and down and, sliding his hands for about 5 minutes. He fondled her breasts again, while his other hand caressed her thighs slowly. "I cannot wait to defile your naked body." He whispered in her ear while he was grabbing her breast and caressing her thighs. His phone rang. Grunting with frustration, he answered the phone with one hand, while his other hand continued caressing her thigh. "Car's here, boss." the voice on the phone said. "Come here and help me pick her up," Mike replied. He then whispered into her ears. "As much as I like to take you further we need to go someplace else and continue our--," He made a dramatic pause, and gave her breasts a perfectly timed squeeze. "Business." The door opened and the driver went and his gaze froze on the almost naked unconscious blonde woman on the table. Mike kissed Clarissa on her lips, gave her breasts one last squeeze, and said to the driver. "Stop staring and help me carry her to the car," Mike yelled at the driver. The driver scrambled nervously and grabbed Clarissa's legs, while Mike put his hands under her arms, grabbing her breasts again as he carried her to the car. "Maurice!" Mike shouted at the bartender. "Good job, brother. Bitch never suspected a thing. Did you get everything?" "You bet!" Maurice replied, smiling as he was taking the hidden video camera from the tripod and put it in his bag. "Now get your ass in the car." Mike told his brother. Mike and Maurice grinned at each other with malice in their eyes. The men carried Clarissa's unconscious form to the car, her limp body fondled by the brothers the entire trip as she slept her drugged slumber.