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"Lydia strolled to the closet, then stepped in with her son -- ehr, daughter."Hey!" David complained. "This is MY closet!" Shut up and move over, bitch!" Mom!" I'd better go too, Paul," Professor Mulholland sighed. "I don't seem to be able to control what comes out of my mouth." I don't know. You seemed to do pretty good with that sentence." Do you think?" she smiled, then frowned, "Oops." The spot on her skirt freshened with new urine. "I'd... better go." She went to the closet and stepped in with the other two ladies."It's getting freaking crowded in here!" David complained. "And stop groping my breasts, Mom!" They're just so irresistibly pert, sweetie." Well, stop!"Patricia pulled the door shut.Paul answered the door with his best sleazy smile. "Hi, sweetie." Don't you 'sweetie' me, Paul Spellman. Where's David?" David didn't make it to class today because he grew breasts and lost his gonads and just couldn't bare his face with all that shame. Guess that means you're in the market. Past that, work product is a bit gray. I would like to reach an agreement, to append to the contract. Also, I did not think the idea of residual payments would hurt your feelings. ‘Now, pull your shit together. The Mistress is coming.’ Sheila: When Russell dropped us off, there was a car in the reserved spot. I presumed it to be Sean’s, which made my heart beat faster. I led CC to the security desk. ‘This is Christine Collins. You should have word concerning her.’ The security tech checked his book. ‘Yes, Ma’am. I need a photo. She can check her bag here and pick both up on the way out.’ I put my bag on the counter and nodded to CC, who did likewise. The tech made notes, put the bags in a cabinet and locked it, then motioned CC to a mark on the floor. While he shot his picture, I thought of the day before. Had it really been that recent? This place was already quite familiar. I then led CC to the desk at the base of the stairs. Richard and Paul were on duty again. We nodded to each.
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With a soft sigh she sunk to her knees, her hands still clasped firmly behind her back. His voice was gruff and his eyes hard as he murmured, “Unbuckle my belt.” Cynthia’s eyes flickered to the bar; she had an audience of two. Steve, the barman, stood with his eyes wide and mouth slack, the patron on the other hand had a filthy grin plastered on his leering face and a large hand fondled the hard on tenting his slacks. “Look at me, my girl,” Cynthia’s wild stare was caught and held by the dark gaze of the man before her, “I told you to unbuckle my belt,” he sighed softly and trailed the tip of a finger over her lower lip slowly, “So beautiful.” The softness that crept into his tone was Cynthia’s undoing. She ignored the watching men and let her slim fingers swiftly work on his belt. A muttered, “Fuck yeah,” drifted across from the bar, but Cynthia ignored the temptation to glance in their direction, instead she kept her eyes firmly on her task. “Undo the button.” Cynthia felt.

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