Marie was hurt and confused. She moved to the far end of the seat. Unable to control herself, she started to cry, humiliated by James reaction. The s...y opened and the rain beat down. The weather turned horrendous and James had to concentrate on the road until they reached the sanctuary of the porch of the house. Not a word was spoken between them. In her cluttered mind, Jean had slipped into deep slumber and did not wake up when James switched off the ignition. The porch light was on as he. Fetish. Mistaking her for an Irish Catholic. Here was my perfect chance to escape, if I so desired, simply by opening up my mouth and being myself. “I’m not sure,” I blurted out. “I’m really not sure.” Honest. Mostly honest. And as of that moment, standing there with some brisket stuck between my teeth, and my clothes now smelling of fried onions, I was being honest. “Good answer,” she said. “Better than lying and talking about my eyes or my voice. Classier than mentioning my tits too.” Tits?. More

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