" I promise, Henry," she said.We were silent after that while I drove the bus on the winding road. It had more curves that ten strippers at a topless ...oint, a friend had once joked to me. Driving this rig, I had to agree. It was only about twenty feet long, but the turns were still a bit sharp for it. It made me appreciate how good the bus drivers out here were.We went through Copalis Crossing and continued on to an old lumber town called Carlyle. It wasn't considered a town anymore as the. I told you there were thorns and stumps! This really hurts! I don’t have shoes on, and you do, you dumb fuck!” Honey totally lost her shit.George tried to get her to calm down and insisted he would spank her if she didn’t.“Fuck you, George! You just want to play with my butt!” Honey said.Honey calmed down and didn’t get spanked. However, I think George was gun shy about riding her around, and the depraved game of pony play in the woods came to a close shortly after that.George pulled down. President Bush wore a large smile and pumped Jamie's hand vigorously."Welcome to the White House your Grace," the President said."I'm pleased to meet you Mr President," Jamie managed to reply."Let's get you inside so we can talk properly and you can tell me what's so urgent that you had to fly across the Atlantic without any warning," said POTUS through now clenched teeth.Jamie simply nodded and kept pace with the most powerful man in the world, as they crossed the remainder of the lawn and. ‘Calm down Jewel,’ she told herself. There it was again, this time a definite touch, caressing slowly along her neck and shoulder, just brushing it. She turned, slowly this time, perhaps by some fear that if she turned quickly the feeling would disappear as before. A man stood behind her, dressed as the Phantom from Phantom of the Opera, one of her favorite musicals of all time. She looked at him, trying to ascertain the man behind the mask. He took her hand, led her out toward the edge of the.
Read MorePerhaps it was way too late for these desires to be pulled like spools of spaghetti from his mind—a hand that tugs out the soft, diseased tendrils o
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