Then up some stairs to an office. "My boss would like to talkto you about an offer." Angel smiled, but inside he called out *Lena! I may need some bac...up.* *Trouble?* *I don't think so. But could you monitor things while I'm in here? I maybe in over my head* *Ok. There's just you two and an older man. He's the manager of thetheater. They seem upbeat.* There was mostly good news. The manager was impressed, but a littleskeptical, when Andy told him about her warning and help. He wanted toverify. I moved my hands down to push my skirt back to its full length but was met quickly by much stronger and rougher hands. My hands were placed back against the door and spread more than shoulder length apart. His hands them struggled at my waist pulling my hips back off the door then down to spread my legs. After that, he growled his first words to me, "Don't move bitch." I gasped as he spoke to me but dared not go against his order. His hands roamed over the curves of my hips as he forced my. Noticing Camille’s camera John’s interest was piqued. “You’re obviously quite serious about photography?” Camille held up her camera so John could examine it more closely. “Why do you say that?” “Well a Classic Leica M6” John paused as he moved closer to Camille and examined the camera more closely. “And a 1.4 50mm Summicron lens. Nice! What film do you like to shoot with? Not too many people even shoot with film anymore.” “Well John you seem to know a bit about photography yourself.” Camille’s. ‘The farts.’ ‘Jeff! That’s not you. Where did that come from?’ ‘That’s what Sam calls it. It’s actually the oligosaccharides, which are -‘ ‘Okay, it’s the farts.’ Does the rest of his family find these long explanations interesting and endearing? Or do they sometimes want to scream, like I do? After two or three minutes there were no more farts collecting at the top. Jeff laid out the plan for cutting up the peppers and onions and sautéing them. He had his own version of The Joy of Cooking,.