Meanwhile, reality had the trembling fingers of Rixie grasp the mug’s handle harder, a grip that could send a human to death. The coffee seemed rest...ess as its own reality was mildly shaken, pressed by earthquakes caused by its mistress. Taking back into the view of our deity Rixie, images flashed of a body carried in the frail and torn arms of the girl, clothing now hanging in rags and leaving a trail of blood behind, the only words now uttered were not said in the same voice, being ‘You’re. Marion was probably in her late fifties. Not pretty exactly, but ‘striking’ and vivacious. She was dressed in a full-length purple gown of a soft and yielding material which clung to her curves.Her husband, Gerald, was clearly much older, but well turned out, like me, in a suit.Things began conventionally. Gerald took Caroline’s coat and we were invited to relax in their well-appointed lounge, with cocktails and ‘nibbles’.After the introductions, the conversation proceeded, between the two. Mattson reached over and pulled a stack of papers away from her with a slight smile, making more room for her feet in her stylish canvas Converse high tops she went everywhere in.“Hey, what is that? A screenplay? What are you working on, Mattson?”He thought about it for a moment as he looked down at what was in his hands. Then he shrugged and handed it over.“It’s just something I have been working on in my spare time. I will never find anyone to headline it, both because I’m indie and because. She had very fair almost pale skin, long curly red hair flowing past her shoulders. Green eyes, red lips, fat chubby cheeks, and of course she had wide hips and a big round ass. And over that ass she was wearing a long flowing floor-length skirt. It was not see-through, but it was light enough to show off every curve on her hips and cheeks. And every once in a while she would move around, and her skirt would flutter and fall deep between her ass cheeks. Her and her friend were chatting about.