“You don’t have to explain yourself to me. Honestly,” I said, fiddling with the tassels on the cushion, “it was one night. You hardly know me....��He scoffed at that. “I hardly know you? Really?”I swallowed and focused on the tassel again, smoothing all of the strings down. In the tiny room, my knee was almost grazing his and I felt like a weak iron filing drawn to a magnet.“You know me in a professional capacity.”“I know you, Nat. I know you’re kind, beautiful and sexy as hell. I know you don’t. .. Anyway Franky and I made our way inside.The house was lit with several scented candles, as you expect for someplace specializing in sex. Every table in the place has a white doilie on it, and the couches and chairs has skirts with ruffles. Mostly everything in the house was either pink or red, even the wood looked like red pine. The entrance had a desk, it looked more like a small hotel than a house. There was a clerk setting behind the desk, a woman, she looked about 30. She was. His words resonated with such deep sorrow that, had he been anyone else, Mia would have wept in sympathy.But he was Arthur. Now freed of the foot that had held her to the floor, Mia rolled to her feet and stood behind him. He was so lost in his grief that he took no notice of her movements. Her uninjured arm moved swiftly forward, and she took a firm hold on the shard of wood that still stuck out from his back. Withdrawing it slightly, she changed its angle and drove it home once more, this. He and his wife Sharon appeared to have a pretty decent marriage; despite the fact that their sex life wasn't anywhere near what it had been when they first got together. He had to admit that Sharon's so called "headaches" seemed to be occurring far too frequently for his taste. Staring at the contents of the envelope from his private investigator told the story why he was so upset.Ronald had met Sharon at of all places at a Halloween party hosted by one of their college fraternities. Having.
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