Those times I didn't, I would quietly walk up the stairs, pick up the paper, and throw it by the door.One day when I collected, Cindy's mom praised me... "I hear you toss the paper and miss, then I hear you go up the stairs very quietly and retrieve the paper. Cindy never wakes up, and I appreciate that." And, each Christmas, her mother would give me a dollar for the calendar, saying "Merry Christmas, this is from all of us." One year, it was Cindy who took the calendar and gave the dollar. Cindy. Later that night Lydia found herself lying in bed. She was fresh out of the shower. Her small black lace nightie on, which actually matched the panties Roxie sent. "It must be fate," she thought with a small smile forming on her face. Lydia bit lustfully down a little on her bottom lip and brought the panties up to her face inhaling deeply. Taking in Roxie's perfume that still lingered on the panties.Idly her tongue ran over them, tasting as she closed her eyes and her fingers moved between her. Yet, he wondered if she knew that he was a practicing Basque Catholic. She had, repeatedly now, demonstrated that she knew more of him than circumstances would deem she should know. If she did know, then she must be aware of the moral dilemma she had placed on his shoulders. It angered him that she would be willing to do this in such a casual manner. It was his mother's religion that he had struggled with since his first awareness of good and evil. As a child, it was the morality of loving. “What’s wrong?” “I think ‘m in labor…” Cloud looked up at him, her eyes searching for something to distract her from the pain that she knew would grow worse. “Shit.” She placed her hand on her stomach at her husband’s words and sat up, wincing as she did so. It didn’t take DeadShot long to quickly pull his clothes on and he moved to her side of the bed, helping her to stand. Cloud leaned against him, clad only in one of her satin nightgowns and shivering even in the heated room. Her arms.