Lawrence had the worst tolerance for liquor.
He was still a bit dazed. "Does the FBI still handle prostitution crackdowns these days?"
Harry, much more sober, slapped him on the glutes. "Fuck! Don't be so ambiguous; we have a normal working relationship!"
Dean silently picked up his clothes, covering his arousal.
The two FBI agents were also completely bewildered.
The older, middle-aged agent looked at his partner in confusion. "Buddy, didn't you say there was only one woman in the target room? Why are there three men here?"
His partner shrugged. "Must have been a mistake with the intel. Still, catching three 'faggots' isn't a completely wasted trip."
"Fuck you!"
Lawrence finally realized what was happening.
His jowls quivered with rage as he glared at the younger agent. "Screw you and your 'faggot'! What law says several men can't rent a room to rest?"
"Well, now, we'll need to inspect the scene to be sure about that!"
They even dared to talk back!
